


A Blind Purpose

by sunset_moth



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, For Want of a Nail fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 91,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunset_moth/pseuds/sunset_moth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Jules Shepard, a talented combat engineer of the Alliance Navy, decides that this time, they would fight the Reapers by their own means. Rule no. 1 of tech school is, "If you didn't build it or know how to take it apart—don't use it. Better to use your own than tech that'll bite you in the ass someday."</p><p>A "What if Shepard didn't use the Crucible?" fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is my first multi-chaptered ME fic, I actually have to worry about updating regularly! For those who would like to hear about what I'm writing, etc, check out my new [tumblr](http://heteronormativityoff.tumblr.com/). I will try to include "notes" about different parts of the chapter when I can. Also, if you like what I'm writing, please do me a favour and drop a comment here or on tumblr and give me fanfic recommendations! Particularly, Liara/FemShep recommendations! It's the fuel to my writing fire. Srs. I don't mind if you're plugging your own. I'll read anything as long as they're the pairing!
> 
> (I also realize that most of my notes are tl;dr. In the future, such things will just be posted on my tumblr, for the sake of those who would rather not read my ramblings.)

Sweat rolled across a bare, heaving back marred with scars of long ago battles, of mistakes, of triumphs, of lessons learned, and lessons that still needed learning. Along the rippling muscle was the faded image of a griffin rearing proudly, its wings spread, and its beak open in a war-like cry. ‘Fehl’ was etched in bold letters underneath the stalwart beast, emphasizing a kind of ache that could never truly be forgotten.

The dusty blue mat that had endured years of beating creaked unpleasantly as the dark-skinned colossus struggled to his feet, eyeing his smaller counterpart warily. “Oy, Shepard,” he hissed, feeling his body protest from the sudden movement. “That was cheating!”

The woman called ‘Shepard’ simply let out a soft chuckle. “Out there in the battlefield, there is no such thing as cheating. What is right and what is fair—those are your first casualties.” She raised her right hand and deactivated the omni-tool with great, exaggerated care, her stance completely unguarded if James chose to launch a surprise attack against her. He chose to wait instead, taking stock of his injuries even as he continued to stare openly at the former Alliance marine.

She wasn’t what he had expected—not at all. He had expected someone taller and bigger, for instance: an eighty-foot behemoth that could make a man piss his pants with a stare and utterly crush him with a swat of her hand. Instead, she was of average height with a scrawny, dancer’s build and a perpetually cocky half-smile that easily got on his nerves. And to think—to _think_ —that she could hand over his ass like that, on a silver platter no less, it made her downright irritating in his eyes!

So maybe she had earned the title of Spectre. Fine. Great. The human representative could hold her own in a fight. He could grudgingly admit that much at least. “But come on, Shepard! Hitting me with a flashbang’s just, just...”

“Unfair?” Shepard asked mildly, moving into a fighting stance once more. “I know you’re a good Lieutenant, Vega, and I think it would be _unfair_ of me if I didn’t treat you as an equal and held back.”

James simply grunted and waved his hand. “I think I’ve had enough of your type of _loco_ for the day, Shepard.”

“Oh, Lieutenant,” Shepard laughed and raised her hands helplessly. “Without you around, _loco_ is all I’ve got.”

“Good,” James said, grinning despite his initial anger. “Means I won’t catch it.” He picked up one of the towels from a nearby bench wiped the sweat off his face.

“I mean it, Vega.” Shepard added quietly. “We are at the cusp of a war. If I have to use every dirty trick in the book to prepare you, I’d do it.”

James shot her a tired look. “Sorry, Shepard, but you’re not my commanding officer.” He grabbed his water bottle, gave her a two-fingered salute and sauntered away, leaving the woman to her thoughts. He immediately regretted his last words to her. Frankly, she was a good woman, all things told. He just wasn’t used to her being so...well, so _tiny_ for one thing. That, and she was definitely unconventional to an ordinary marine like him. A combat engineer with some infiltrator training, she had the tendency to approach a problem in different directions at the same time. The first time they met, she had eyed him like a grandmaster might eye a chess piece. Did she see him as a rook? He wondered. Or a mere pawn?

He shook his head and entered his room to pick up a fresh change of clothes. His sparring match with the human Spectre _had_ been exhausting, more so than he would like to admit. Although, fighting against her while she wore a tight-fitting tank top and gym shorts was certainly—

He grimaced. Right. Time to shower.

* * *

_“...but you’re not my commanding officer.”_

Former Commander Julia “Jules” Shepard of the SSV Normandy smothered a sigh and grabbed her own towel and water bottle, moving towards her cot in the Cargo Holding Bay. The SSV Serenity had a Mako unit in this area of the ship, which was why Shepard had chosen to bunk here instead of the cramped cabin that had belonged to Serenity’s former CO. She had to admit, the offer had mollified her a little, but the closer she was to the ship’s central hub, the better she felt. That, and the Engineering area had very little ‘liveable’ space available, particularly for a woman of her status, though in terms of her short stature, she knew could have easily stayed there given a chance. Besides, the Mako made her feel sentimental. Away from her friends, her family, and her duty, she needed all the reminders she could get of the war and the people she had to protect.

The women’s communal showers were a few floors up, located near the canteen and sleeping quarters for the rest of the crew. She ignored the bashful looks of some of the crew members on her way to the showers and was glad to find it empty of other female occupants. “Normandy’s really spoiled me,” she muttered under her breath, no longer used to sharing a bathroom with other people. Placing fresh clothes on a counter nearby, she stepped into the shower area and quickly stripped off her clothes, allowing a grimace to grace her features. Taking a deep breath, she spoke the voice command to turn the shower on and basked in the warm running water sliding across weary skin.

It was soothing: the sound of silence, punctuated only by the cacophony of thoughts running through her mind like check-list algorithms that considered every possibility she could come up with, and tackled every problem made noticeable by her paranoia and concern. _Vega favours his left hook despite having a dominant right hand. Holding back, perhaps? Self-esteem issues; needs encouragement._

_Quarian-Geth war brewing in the horizon. Need to find some way to discourage further hostilities from quarian side. Otherwise, history will repeat itself._

_Portable mass relays too costly and too big. Need to find a more efficient eezo converter. Need to find an alternate source of energy that mimics eezo capabilities. Need to find way to manipulate mass effect fields spherically to accommodate more than one ship at a time. Corridors. Mirrors. Change mass relay directions. Needs further analysis. Moving on._

_Reaper physiology. Purpose of tentacles? Joints: possible weaknesses? Cuttlefish-like head—antenna? Possible weapon? Possible weakness? Billions of organic minds, uploaded and conjoined within immortal machine bodies, as Legion said. Upload a virus? Need to study one up close. Find way to become immune to indoctrination. Need to contact Mordin. Need to contact Shiala. Moving on._

As her thoughts muddled along in a rate that couldn’t quite compare to the salarian's breakneck analyzing capabilities, her muscles eased even as her expression grew more intense.

“You’re not going to start asking this ship’s mechanics questions about the shower’s infrastructure, are you, Jules?”

“Only if it’s relevant to defeating the Reapers, Captain Shepard," the younger woman spoke absently, continuing to gaze at the monochromatic wall before her.

“Well, maybe if you build a big enough shower head...”

“I highly doubt that we can drown them, given that they can survive in Dark Space," Jules replied bitterly, staring acidly at her mother. "Can they even breathe? Do they need oxygen like we do? I suppose trapping them in an aquarium and observing them might produce interesting results given that they look like cuttlefish.”

Hannah Shepard chuckled. “Slow down, child.” She leaned against the door’s frame and smiled at her daughter fondly. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

Jules flushed and averted her eyes, whispering the voice command to stop the flow of water. As a child desperate for her mother’s attention, she had made a habit of saying as much as she could to her mother in the few moments that they spent together. Afraid of having their conversations cut short by some duty or emergency that Hannah had to take care of, she insisted on talking quickly so that more ground could be covered. In retrospect, her mother probably only got a quarter of what she said. Since then, she’d taken the time to slow down and speak to people in a more normal pace. It was just with her mother—and admittedly, with Mordin—that the old habit arose.

She accepted the towel her mother offered her. “I’m surprised you’re here,” she said idly, focusing on drying herself.

“You’re the only family I’ve got left,” Hannah replied. “Besides, I haven’t seen you since your apparent death. I thought a visit was long overdue.”

Jules tensed slightly and grimaced before pulling a loose-fitting shirt over her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you, Captain—”

“Mom,” Hannah corrected.

Jules grinned. “Right, Captain Mom.”

Hannah gave a mocking salute and sighed, her hands cupping her elbows. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you.” Now fully clothed, Jules turned to her mother and gave her a timid hug, revelling in her mother’s strong arms. She would never tell her mother this, but Jules always felt safe within her mother’s embrace. Feeling her mother’s chin rest atop her head, Jules stifled the urge to snort. The height difference certainly made her feel like a small child that needed protecting.

“I trust that this is only a social visit?” Jules asked as she withdrew from the embrace.

“To you it is,” Hannah admitted. “The Alliance higher ups are trying to promote me again.”

Thoughtful cloud-grey eyes met impassive gunmetal blue. Jules was the first to break the silence. “Accept it. They need people like you taking the lead.”

Hannah gave her daughter a half-smile. “I intended to.”

Jules inclined her head. “I guess mother knows best after all.” They left the women’s washroom together and went towards the elevator to the Cargo Holding Bay, talking quietly about their various adventures and mishaps amidst the vast array of stars. Her mother respectfully avoided her mission in the Bahak system, focusing instead on the various characters her daughter had met and befriended in the preceding months.

“My goodness,” Hannah said, leaning sideways against the Mako unit. “And all of your crew survived that horrible suicide mission?”

“We pulled through,” Jules replied somberly, her attention still focused on her mother, though her fingers began to dart across the omni-tool’s virtual keyboard, making notes with her right hand. “It’s just too bad that I couldn’t be with the rest of them out there, doing something: helping, building, preparing, _anything_.”

“Like being in the brig can stop you from doing what you really want to do.”

“It’s slowing me down though,” Jules admitted regretfully. “Captain—Mom, can I ask you something? A personal favour?”

Hannah looked at her child, caressing Jules's steadfast expression with soft blue eyes, her scars, particularly the prominent one along her neck towards her left shoulder, her proudly erect back, her hands, now busily tinkering with a few salvaged items, her feet slightly tapping to a rhythm only she could hear... Hannah looked at her child with quiet, loving eyes, the pain of separation a heavy weight on her chest. Still, she found the will to smile. “Ask away, my love.”

* * *

The hum of the ship's engine was audible amongst the metal crates in the cargo bay. Kasumi, languishing atop one of the crates, let out a wistful sigh, missing the more subtle vibrations of the SSV Normandy. Raising one arm, she turned on her omni-tool with a flex of her hand and eyed the draft of haikus sitting on the top right corner of her screen.

“Unshackled she stands,  
Addresses a war-like crowd;  
Pleas fall on deaf ears.”

Kasumi grimaced and closed the text document, setting it aside for later. Perhaps it was time she wrote something other than haikus. A novel perhaps? She smirked at the thought. What would Shepard think if she wrote a biography about the human Spectre’s life? Embarrassingly annoyed, probably. The commander was far from vain and a very private person. Kasumi could tell from the few vids available on the extranet that the commander did not like being filmed or interviewed. It was not that she showed discomfort when in front of a camera; rather, it was the number of videos available that gave her feelings about it away. Not that Kasumi could blame her; after all, she too preferred to work in the shadows rather than in the limelight. Let others take the stage. At least then, the more competent people could work quietly in peace.

She moved to a sitting position, her legs dangling from her seat above two metal crates stacked together. It was strange how her thoughts often found themselves drifting back towards the commander. Kasumi supposed that it was because the commander had quite the magnetic personality. She had a charisma about her: a genuine kindness, interest, respect, and confidence in others that made people feel that they could be _worthy_ around her. She brought to light and intensified the most positive feelings in you, and made you want to follow her to the depths of hell and back. She took away the tiny seeds of doubt in your heart and replaced them with great oaks of faith, firmly rooted and continually growing. She was like the sun, and all those who followed her were flowers that turned their adoring gazes towards her, drinking in her warmth and compassion...

Yes, she was definitely writing that novel now.

As if some god from above was listening to her idle thoughts, she felt a slight vibration across her arm, signalling a message from Shepard. Kasumi smiled wryly and opened the private channel.

_“Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations. Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies like a snowflake falling on water."_

_“All night, the cities, like shimmering novas, tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.”_ Kasumi typed quickly, knowing the final words of the poem by heart by now. The commander had always been a cautious and paranoid person. Despite the secure channel they were on, she still insisted on other safety precautions. Kasumi didn't mind of course. If anything, her respect for the commander simply grew. In her line of work, paranoia was a useful companion that shadowed her wherever she went. It kept her alive more times than she could count, and alerted her to any possible mishaps she could then avoid. She knew that it was, like other tools of the trade, a double-edged blade that could be used against her, but she trusted the commander. Shepard had never let her down before. She doubted the woman would start now.

 _"Status?"_ The commander asked, direct as ever.

 _"I am en route towards the Petra Nebula to drop off the schematics for the biotic implants that you've developed, as you have requested."_ She wrote back.

_"Thank you, Kasumi. And Samara?"_

_"I believe that she is in the Silean Nebula recruiting Dr. Jelize and the Serrice Guard to our cause. Your Shadow tells me that one of her agents is ready at any time for extraction to a more secure location?"_

There was a pause in the correspondence, making Kasumi smirk. Initially, she had simply assumed that the commander was too busy saving the galaxy on a daily basis to have some kind of space affair with another human or alien. Heck, she just assumed that the commander was too focused on her various projects to be sweet on someone. She just always seemed to be so _busy_. Finding out from a drunken Tali that Commander Shepard of all people, was seeing an asari—and a sexy, rogue asari at that!—was just mind-boggling! Shepard, who didn't bat an eye at another man _or_ woman... Shepard, who walked past _asari_ dancers in night clubs without so much as a backward glance... Shepard, whose head can be thicker than Grunt's armour sometimes when it came to crew members crushing on her... Shepard, one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the damn galaxy, was actually seeing someone? Hilarious.

 _"Ah, that is fortunate. Thank you for informing me, Kasumi."_ Shepard finally replied, sounding extremely polite. Was she angry at the thief? Or was she simply too embarrassed to write a more informal response? Kasumi couldn't tell; she couldn't see Shepard's expression from the omni-tool. _"If I might ask another favour from you? Our mutual friend will, of course, compensate for it."_

 _"Anything for you, Commander,"_ Kasumi promised, using Shepard's Alliance title despite the fact that she had been officially stripped of her military rank after returning to Earth. As an addendum, she wrote teasingly, _"Unless your Shadow can provide it better. In which case you have no need of me."_

_"...If possible, I would like you to locate the asari, Shiala. I believe she is currently stationed in Feros. Once you find her, one of our mutual friend's agents will also pick her up."_

_"Very well, Shepard."_

_"And one more thing, Kasumi?"_

_"Yes, Shepard?"_

_"It's Shadow Broker,"_ the commander quickly added. _"Not 'my shadow'."_

Kasumi pressed her hand against her lips, struggling not to laugh. _"Is that wistfulness I detect?"_ She finally typed back, after struggling with the right words to say. _"Did you_ wish _she was your shadow, Commander? Your constant companion?"_

The commander hastily wrote down the ending phrase to signal the end of their communication and disconnected before Kasumi could give the appropriate reply. "Oh Shepard," Kasumi said, grinning widely. "I think making you flustered is going to be my new favourite past time."

* * *

Admiral Anderson stared blearily at the datapad in front of him and leaned back against his chair, wondering for the hundredth time that day why he had turned down the offer of a more comfortable chair for his office. _Oh right, it’s because I have a stick so far up my ass,_ he thought wryly, _that I’ve forgotten what comfort sounds like when it’s being offered to me. On a silver platter no less._

The former Councillor sighed and gently placed the datapad on his desk. Standing up, he took a moment to stretch out the kinks in his back before picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip. Casually, he turned around to gaze at the scenery beyond his window—the only luxury that he had indulged in. Having lived in the Citadel for the past few years, he had gotten used to the perpetual light of an artificial sun that never dipped into the darkness. Seeing the sunset now stirred some aching sorrow inside of him. How long before such a view becomes a luxury he could no longer afford? How long before the Reapers attack?

He savoured the flare of bright orange valiantly pressing against the dark blue, and the wisps of grey clouds curling along the horizon. His eyes caressed the silhouette of buildings where men and women of like minds were hard at work, developing and modifying weapons of mass destruction, training new soldiers in the art of war, refining strategies, preparing for different scenarios, making lists of supplies that a frigate or dreadnought might need, refurbishing old ships...

He knew that plenty of them were still reluctant to mobilize more of their navy and put more expenditures into what they felt was an imagined war. He knew that plenty of them would rather focus on some internal conflict within the Sol system or some colonial venture in the Terminus systems, which seemed more profitable than a mythical enemy. He knew that plenty of them were scared, their losses against the Reaper, Sovereign, still making reverberations to this day. He knew their hearts as well as he knew his own, and wanted nothing more but to ease their fears and give them strength.

But that was not his job.

Shepard was the big damn hero of the galaxy after all.

His eyes turned reflexively towards the dog tags hanging on a hook attached to a bookshelf. It seemed wrong to imprison the woman who had done so much for the Alliance and for the rest of the galaxy. Yet, the batarians demanded justice and Shepard had complied. Granted, the Alliance refused to turn her over to what was left of the batarian military to be tried by their people, but they did keep her on Earth as a sign of their disapproval over her actions. Anderson knew that he would have done the same thing that Shepard did, given the situation, and he would have probably felt some sense of justice destroying the Alpha mass relay if he was in Shepard's shoes. The woman, after all, not only lost a good number of men during the raids that culminated in the Skyllian Blitz, but she had also lost her brother and sister-in-law when batarian slavers attacked the colony of Mindoir. Still, she did seem genuinely sorry for what she was forced to do to the Bahak system. "Bloodshed for bloodshed," he remembered her muttering. "How long before we drown from our own thirst for vengeance?" Anderson couldn't help but smile. Three years had passed, and still Shepard remained the idealistic Paragon. It seemed that death and Cerberus had not managed to besmirch her honour and ideals.

Looking at one of the omni-tools he had confiscated from her, he couldn't help but chuckle. Another thing Cerberus hadn't managed to take away from her was her ability to draw people together. He initially thought that being a part of the Cerberus organization would make it harder for her to find allies whom she could trust, but he had evidently underestimated her again. Picking up the device, he grinned as he stared at the security protocols integrated in her omni-tool's system. The omni-tool had been a gift from her friends, smuggled to her when her original one had been taken from her. Since then, he had confiscated six more before finally giving up. At least the woman had agreed to share all of incoming and outgoing messages with him, making it easier for him to 'monitor' her communications in case someone claimed that she was still in cahoots with Cerberus. From what he had seen so far, most of her communications was purely for the benefit of the war: exchanging ideas with brilliant scientists, directing her agents to far-off star systems to recruit potentials to her cause, sending caches filled with weapons and first aid to several colonies, discussing likely scenarios with veteran tacticians, and making even more friends with other species... That woman just couldn't sit on her thumbs like the obedient soldier that the rest of the Alliance higher-ups want her to be. She just liked staying busy.

Oh, and the diagrams that she was designing! He could barely understand the jargon that came with the pictures, but he could sense that there was innovation being done wherever she directed her energy towards. Want faster comm. relays? She'll stay hunched in that work table for days and come back with a solution that not only made transmissions faster, but also made them more energy efficient or something. Perhaps in a time of peace she could have been one of the best inventors the Sol system ever had. But they needed a hero more. Anderson just hoped that she didn't burn herself out trying to contribute as much as she could to the war effort.

Which was why he had personally authorized her the use of a computer terminal for a few hours once every two weeks. It wasn't much, but it did give her enough time to talk to Liara: a prothean expert who had proven herself two years prior when she had accompanied Shepard along with Garrus to fight against Saren in the Citadel. She was also the Shadow Broker now, making her a potential threat in the eyes of the Alliance military council. Fortunately, the asari had the forethought to provide the Alliance sought after information concerning potential raids on the colonies in Terminus space, making it easier for Anderson to convince the council that allowing Shepard to maintain contact with her asari would be beneficial to her mental health.

He remembered showing up to one of her sessions with Liara and finding Shepard completely enraptured as she listened to the asari talk animatedly about prothean culture. For once, the former commander was completely still, her arms around legs, her chin resting on a forearm, watching Liara with open admiration. The sight had been a pleasant welcome amidst all of the chaos of paperwork and administrative duties. It was a moment he knew he would remember once the fighting began and all eyes would be on Shepard once more—knew that he would be fighting for that memory for Shepard's sake, because while others dreamed of a future where she would stand tall and lead the entire galaxy to a new era of stronger intergalactic ties and connectedness, he would be dreaming of a future where she could be at peace and be around the people she loved.

His shoulders drooped slightly at the thought of all the burdens she would have to carry once the Reaper invasion arrived. Shaking his head at the pigheadedness of the council, he went back to his seat and settled down, picking up the datapad for a second look-through. It was a request from one of the members of the Alliance Engineering Corps to establish a base in Virmire—an odd request considering that Virmire was located in the Sentry Omega cluster in the Attican Traverse, and was an area fraught with pirates. Idly looking through the man's request, Anderson paused midway and raised an eyebrow. It seemed that not only the AEC was interested in Virmire. Third-party groups were also interested in this venture, specifically groups tied to the Shadow Broker.

_...What's Shepard planning now?_


	2. Divergence

**Chapter One - Divergence**

_The lights were dim, and the terminals, which were bright in contrast, attacked her vision in short, angry bursts, leaving after-images at the edges of her vision. She grimaced and pushed away from the control panel, massaging her forehead with one ungloved hand, the other reaching futilely for the nearby coffee cup. She felt the cup pressing against her fingers. Startled, she looked up and met the gaze of an older woman, a touch of grey in her sun-kissed hair. She was taller than Liara with a strong jaw and eyes the colour of the sea. Taking a step back, she asked in a somewhat strangled tone, "How did you get past our defenses?"_

_"Your friend let me in," the woman replied jovially, continuing to appear at ease even as Liara's fists began to glow with biotic energy. Liara reached for an open comm. link but the woman placed a hand over hers and pressed it down towards the edge of the control panel. "I hope my daughter hasn't infected you with her paranoia," the woman continued, smiling slightly._

_Liara's eyes focused on the crisp, military uniform the woman wore, the easy smile on her face, the crinkle of her eyes, her stance... So many things about this woman seemed to be familiar, as if she had seen some of these features elsewhere. "Rear Admiral Shepard?"_

_"Please, Hannah is fine," the older Shepard replied. "Rear admiral is a mouthful, don't you think?"_

_Liara relaxed _visibly_. "I take it, Shepard—I mean, Jules, gave you the IFF code?"_

_Hannah inclined her head. "She was very insistent that I meet you."_

_Suddenly unsure of what to do, Liara turned to her terminals and transferred control to Feron before picking up her coffee mug. "Would you like me to make you some coffee? Or tea?" Liara asked nervously. She swept the room with a critical eye and gave Hannah an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if this room isn't very accommodating. I haven't had the time to furnish it properly."_

_"I can see why my child might find you so endearing," teased Hannah. She paused and saw the uncertainty in Liara's body language, and her need to please the elder woman in her frightened expression. Hoping to put the asari at ease, she added, "Coffee with cream will do."_

_"Very well," Liara said, bowing her head slightly. She hurried towards the adjoining room, prompting Feron to look up at her in askance. She gave the drell a helpless smile and moved towards the coffeemaker, relieved to note that there was still enough left for the two of them. With steady hands, she poured two cups of coffee and added some cream in both. The coffeemaker had been one of their first purchases after Liara had taken over as the Shadow Broker. With the amount of intel that Liara had to sort through on a daily basis, there was very little room for sleep in her schedule. The coffee, while a poor substitute for sleep, allowed her to get through most of the day with very few slip ups. She took the two cups and, with one backward glance at Feron, who was hard at work, went back to the Intel Centre where Hannah awaited. "Forgive me for the wait," she spoke demurely, setting the two cups on the coffee table._

" _Don't worry about it, Liara," Hannah replied cheerfully. "I was admiring the place while you were gone."_

_A heavy silence hung between them, made even more prominent by the thrum of the ship's engine. Liara, having taken a seat across Hannah, shifted uncomfortably. "How is Shepa—Jules?"_

_"Tired," Hannah supplied. "Overworked. I see that she has found a kindred soul in you."_

_Liara flushed. "The Shadow Broker's work is—"_

_"Very important, I know," Hannah interrupted, raising her hands to mollify the agitated asari. "Have you ever considered hiring an assistant? Someone who can help you with your most important work?"_

_Liara's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, but the Shadow Broker's work requires a delicate hand. I cannot just entrust this to anyone."_

_"I agree—which is why I must defer to Jules's wisdom." Hannah examined the Shadow Broker's expression carefully. "I heard that Miranda Lawson is a very capable woman and that she is a former Cerberus operative now."_

_Liara crossed her arms defensively. The mention of Shepard's former XO always made her feel unreasonably uncomfortable. Jealousy—she'd later name the gnawing feeling in her chest. The first time she had met the woman, Liara had been struck by how beautiful she was. But that wasn't why Liara was jealous of her, not really. Miranda had brought Shepard back from the dead._ Miranda _—not her. Oh, Shepard had been so gallant, thanking Liara for bringing her back, but Liara knew that it was Miranda's handiwork and not hers that allowed her beloved commander to live, laugh and love again. She was indebted to Miranda, and Liara did not like being indebted. "I also heard that she has gone dark."_

_"Yes," Hannah agreed though her determined eyes still held some argument in them. "But I believe that her sister, Oriana, can be easily found. Too easily, or so my daughter thinks." Hannah placed her coffee cup on the table and leaned forward, eyeing Liara earnestly. "Jules thinks that Oriana might still be in danger of being discovered. She would have contacted Miranda herself and said as much, but as you have so kindly pointed out, Ms. Lawson has dropped off the radar. We believe that if you take her as an apprentice, she will be better protected."_

_"The Shadow Broker's base has likely been compromised," Liara argued. "If Cerberus finds out that I have Miranda's sister here, they will have more incentive to attack us."_

_"Then move," Hannah replied simply. "Liara, your presence alone already endangers this entire place. Or haven't you considered that you're important to Jules? If Cerberus manages to get their hands on you, Jules will be willing to do more than just blow up a star system. Her moral compass points to your direction, Liara."_

_"Alright," Liara conceded. "I'll think about it." The asari tilted her head and gazed at Jules's mother cautiously. "Is this why she sent you here?"_

_"Oh no, Liara; that was my personal agenda," Hannah admitted. "Jules just wanted me to give you this." Pulling something from her pants pocket, Hannah gently took Liara's hand and placed it on her open palm. It was a leather cord necklace from which hung a silver ring, minute circuitry embedded within its surface._

_"I don't understand," Liara spoke weakly after a moment of contemplation. "What is this for?"_

_"Has Jules ever told you about her brother?" Liara shook her head, continuing to gaze at the gift reverently. Hannah took the asari's hands in her own, prompting Liara to meet her gaze. "My son was a kind man with a compassionate heart and a kind of charisma that could put people at ease. John was simple and uncomplicated, a loving brother who wished only to take care of his family and his crew. Like Jules and I, he was an Alliance marine, never rising past the rank of Lieutenant. You see, he never cared much for violence, and so used limited tactics in order to protect his men and reduce bloodshed. But my boy was not known for thinking like a soldier. He lost the use of an arm while defending civilians in a pirate raid in one of our colonies in Terminus space. He eventually settled down in the colony of Mindoir with Lisbeth, a civilian he had met during one of his tours."_

_"The batarians—" Liara blurted. Biting her lower lip, she averted her gaze. "I am sorry for your loss."_

_Hannah patted the young asari's hand. "But I am getting ahead of myself." A nostalgic smile graced the older woman's lips. "When John was just beginning his military career, Jules grew anxious and would fret over him for days. She was still a child then, lost without her older brother." The smile widened into one of pride. "When he came back from his first tour, she had made him a similar necklace." Nodding at the ring that Liara still held, Hannah explained, "Jules made a ring that could transmit signals across the galaxy, piggybacking on any open comm. link it could find until it reached her personal terminal. It allowed her to track her brother's movements, and reassured her that her brother was still alive. Later on, her brother could send her short messages in Morse code, simply by tapping the side of the ring. He would say, 'I love you' to her every single night before she went to sleep." Hannah chuckled plaintively."She knows a little better now and has heavily encrypted protocols on your ring, so that anyone who might intercept the signal it emits would not be able to tell its origin or its destination."_

_"Jules can be so overly-protective sometimes," Liara murmured wryly, though she did slip the necklace over her head and adjusted the straps so that it hung perfectly around her neck._

_"Indulge her for my sake," Hannah replied wearily and leaned back. "She is a worrisome child with the weight of the entire galaxy on her shoulders—whether she chooses to bear it or not—and it would make me feel at ease if I knew that someone was looking out for her."_

_"I will take care of your daughter," Liara promised resolutely._

_"You make her sound like a toddler," Hannah teased, though she seemed to approve of Liara's promise._

_Liara matched the older Shepard's grin with her own. "May I ask a favour from you, Hannah?"_

_Hannah raised an eyebrow at Liara's earnest expression—so like her daughter's. "Ask away, my dear."_

_"Can you," Liara hesitated, "will you teach me Morse code?"_

* * *

A lifetime ago, Liara might have felt jealous at the sight of a distraught Shepard, hovering over an unconscious Kaidan. Then again, a lifetime ago, she had not known love or loss; she had not made allies—no friends, with Shepard's crew; she had not bartered information with known criminals; she had not fought tooth and nail to bring Shepard back from the dead; she had not felt Shepard's gentle touch, then, had not seen Shepard's adoring gaze, had not heard Shepard's declarations of love...

An aching desire spread across her chest, awakening old memories of shared pleasures. She shivered involuntarily and silently admonished herself for thinking of her baser desires when there were graver things afoot.

She leaned forward and tilted her head to get a better view of Shepard's face. "Kaidan needs medical attention," Liara spoke forcefully, hoping to get Shepard's attention. Leaning closer, she added, "We have to leave the Sol system."

Shepard's intense gaze faltered. "I know."

Liara rested a hand on top of Shepard's. "The Citadel is our best chance, Shepard. We can find help there."

She could see a flicker of gratitude masked by pain and frustration in her beloved's face. "Get us to the Citadel, Joker." To Kaidan, she murmured, "Hold on, Kaidan. I won't let you"—she grimaced from a ghost of a memory and touched her left shoulder—"I won't let you die," Shepard whispered fiercely.

The commander turned away from her friend's still form and flexed her gloved hand, the omni-tool appearing and glowing brightly on her right arm. "EDI, I'm giving you access to this thing's databanks. See what you can find."

"Shepard, don't you think I should take a look as well?"

Shepard opened her mouth and hesitated. Shaking her head, she beckoned the asari to follow her outside the med-bay. "We need to talk."

Cold fear pressed against Liara's spine, making her stand a little straighter. Her hands sought comfort in the other's presence as her mind raced past several possibilities, the majority of which were mostly permutations of the same thing: _is Shepard going to leave me again?_ She hardened her gaze and resolutely trailed after her commander, her heart fluttering nervously, her stomach full of anxious butterflies, and her head light and abuzz with unanswered questions.

"Liara—"

"Are you," Liara interrupted and cleared her throat embarrassedly at Shepard's questioning gaze. Shyly, she murmured, "Are you having second thoughts? About us?"

Shepard's brow creased in confusion. She reached for Liara's chin with a calloused hand and raised it, peering into Liara's eyes, threads of silver and light blue weaving across the deep ocean colour of her irises, captivating the brilliant tech specialist. Shepard blinked and unconsciously took a step forward, continuing to stare at Liara as if examining a very complex puzzle. She caught Liara's uneasy stance at the sudden lack of space between them and finally probed, "Liara, if this is about Kaidan—"

The asari involuntarily froze. Realizing she had given her concern away, Liara's body slowly loosened as she silently chided at herself for being so transparent. "Y-you said that we needed to talk and I assumed..." She trailed off and looked at her commander sheepishly. "I assumed wrong, didn't I?"

Shepard pulled her in a sudden hug, burying her face against her beloved's shoulder, her smaller frame shaking uncontrollably. Liara, who had tensed a second time, relaxed in Shepard's tight embrace, an exasperated smile gracing her lips at the tinkling sound of Shepard's laughter. "Perchance, were you going to talk about—"

"Commander, I am receiving a signal over the secondary QEC. I believe it's Admiral Hackett."

"—the Prothean weapon?" Liara finished, shooting the ceiling an irritated look.

Shepard pulled away and sighed. Sliding her hand into Liara's, she admitted reluctantly, "Something like that." They headed towards the elevator, the air once more tense between them. "Liara, I wanted to ask you if I could trust you."

It was now Liara's turn to appear confused. "Shepard, there was never any doubt."

Shepard grimaced at her words as if disheartened by Liara's steadfast confidence in her. "I am about to do the unthinkable," she growled unhappily. "I—promise me that you will have my back no matter what choices I make."

"Of course..."

Those sharp eyes turned their full attention towards Liara, unnerving her. "I respect you, Liara. And I think your research has its merits. I hope you understand that I value your opinions as a friend, as a lover, as the Shadow Broker, and as a Prothean expert." She left that declaration in the air as she purposefully marched towards the comm. room, Liara following a step behind.

"Shepard, are you reading me? Commander!" Admiral Hackett's voice exploded through the static, making Shepard grimace.

"EDI, can you clear this up?" asked Shepard wearily.

"I'll do my best," the disembodied AI replied.

"Did you get to the Archives?"

Liara and Shepard shared a look of apprehension.

"I was there," Shepard replied cautiously. "So was the Illusive Man." Liara watched her commander from the corner of her eyes and felt, more than saw, a sudden wariness in Shepard. Her stance reminded Liara of the majestic hunting beasts in her home-world, the tas'ren with their sun-gold eyes, copper-coloured scales, their proud jaws, and their powerfully-built bodies that could explode across a clearing, their mastery of the biotics giving them an unnatural speed. Liara was almost glad that Shepard didn't possess any biotic talent at all; the mass effect build-up of an agitated biotic user, especially a powerful one, could have a serious backlash to her immediate surroundings.

"I was worried Cerberus might try something. Did you get the data?"

Shepard remained silent for a moment longer than was necessary. "We've recovered most of the data, sir, but I believe that the Illusive Man has a more comprehensive copy in his hands."

Hackett cursed. To Liara, he asked in a quiet tone, "What did you learn during your stay in Mars, Dr. T'soni?"

Liara hesitated and briefly glanced at Shepard's direction. "Preliminary evidence suggests the data is a blueprint for a Prothean device, Admiral, specifically, a Prothean weapon." She turned on her omni-tool and uploaded a general set of the weapon's schematics for Admiral Hackett to see. "Massive in scope and size, I believe that this weapon is capable of unquantifiable levels of destruction."

Hackett's gaze hardened. "And now Cerberus has a copy of this device."

Shepard stood a little straighter, her body instinctively moving to parade rest. "If I may speak freely, Admiral Hackett?"

Hackett raised an eyebrow and matched Shepard's resolute expression with his own sombre frown. "Very well, Commander. You may speak, but know that my patience is running thin."

"I believe that it is to our advantage that Cerberus also has a copy," Shepard declared confidently.

Hackett leaned forward and angrily retorted, "You believe that giving them a super-weapon is in our best interests, Shepard? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't accuse you of collaborating with the enemy right now."

Liara felt her heart clench. Was this what Shepard meant when she wanted to confirm Liara's loyalty?

"Because if I was with Cerberus, sir, I would have never returned to Earth for my trial," Shepard replied simply. Before the admiral could interrupt her again, she continued, "Frankly, sir, Cerberus is an unknown quantity right now. The Illusive Man's desire to control the Reapers is our only certainty. It is highly possible that they will be a thorn in our side as we try to rally the other species together. However, as you can see, this Prothean device is going to be a massive undertaking. If we do not build this device ourselves, the Illusive Man will be forced to focus his resources on the construction of the Prothean super-weapon, resources that he might have used to hurt our chances of winning against the Reapers."

"From what I have seen during Shepard's time with Cerberus, the Illusive Man's agents are very capable when it comes to the innovation of new and more powerful weaponry," Liara added, the confidence she normally reserved as the Shadow Broker coming to surface. "Considering our own resources, we have a good chance of forcibly taking the weapon from them in due time."

"And what's going to stop them from using the weapon to attack us?"

"The Catalyst," Shepard answered.

Liara, who instantly picked up Shepard's train of thought, explained further, "The Protheans were close to finishing this device, Admiral, but they were missing a vital piece—the Catalyst."

"As long as they don't get their hands on the Catalyst, sir, the weapon won't be much of a threat against us."

"You're taking a big gamble here, Commander Shepard," Hackett drawled, folding his arms uneasily.

"I know," she agreed plaintively. "And it's not the only gamble I am willing to take." Shepard turned to her companion, "Liara, I believe it's time we tell him about New Ilos."

Liara nodded after recovering from her initial surprise at the mention of Shepard's pet project. Closing her files on the Prothean super-weapon, she typed in a set of security codes to open a second, larger file containing blueprints of a modified asari dreadnought, New Ilos, currently anchored to the planet Virmire in the Sentry Omega cluster. "During her brief alliance with the Cerberus organization, Shepard scoured the galaxy for potential allies. Amongst those whom she recruited were some of the best and brightest in their respective fields. From xeno-biologists to tech specialists—we have over three hundred working under Shepard's leadership."

"We also have temporary facilities in Virmire," Shepard continued, "training ground support personnel and retrofitting ships with experimental tech. It's not much, but if used with the right tactics, we believe we can use these frigates to disable the Reapers and slow them down. We can't outright destroy them, sir, but we can sure as hell make things difficult for them to manoeuvre around."

"And you've been keeping this from me?" asked Hackett in a neutral tone.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but at the time of New Ilos's inception, I was still part of Cerberus. If the Illusive Man found out what I was doing besides scanning planets for mineral resources, he would have tried to undermine my project and take it over for his own ends. Afterwards, when I returned to Earth and was grounded, with my ship taken from me, and my crew disbanded, I realized that the Alliance would have probably done the same, albeit for more benign reasons. However," Shepard continued, giving Liara a sidelong grin, "I was fortunate enough to know someone whom I could trust to keep my best interests at heart."

"Very well," Hackett said, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. "In any other circumstance, I might have had you court-martialed for your insolence by now." He gave his young protégé a wry half-smile. "But considering we're at war with a sentient machine race, I think we'll just call this 'New Ilos' an initiative. I hope you know what you're doing, Shepard."

"On the bright side, sir, if it turns out that I have made all of the wrong decisions, the Reapers would have probably killed me by then; court-martialing me would be the least of your worries."

Hackett snorted. "I see that your time with the Council has made you cheeky."

"It's part of the Spectre status, sir," Shepard replied amicably. In a more serious tone, she said, "Major Alenko was critically injured during our fight with the Cerberus agent. We're taking him to the Citadel now. I also have to talk to the Council and ask for their support on the war front back home. Is there anything I should ask them on your behalf?"

"Even if I were to focus my resources on aiding your scientists in New Ilos, it wouldn't hurt to have Council backing as well. Don't look at me like that Shepard; I can take a hint." Hackett teased casually. "I also suggest that you keep mum about letting Cerberus build the Prothean super-weapon. Let them think that's what we're building. If we do get support, leave it to me to get them properly caught up with your plan."

Shepard frowned. "Are you sure we should keep them in the dark, sir?"

"Politicians are a nervous bunch, Shepard. They're not about to take uncalculated risks, not if they want to keep their seat of power in the Council." Hackett leaned forward, waving a finger at Shepard. "Do whatever it takes to get them on board. We need all the help we can get."

"Understood, sir."

"And, Shepard?"

"Sir?"

"Sorry to hear about Major Alenko," the admiral added as an afterthought. "I'll keep in touch. Hackett out." His silhouette disappeared in a flash of static.

Liara stared at her lover's hunched back, the weariness of the day's events finally catching up to her.

"I'm sorry, Liara," Shepard finally intoned. "I know you have a deep fascination with all things Prothean. I hope you don't feel like you wasted your time on Mars, researching on a device that we pretty much handed over to the Illusive Man."

"I told you I'd have your back no matter what, didn't I?" Liara reminded her, placing a comforting hand on Shepard's shoulder.

"And for that I am grateful."

Liara tilted her head and anxiously eyed her commanding officer. "If you don't mind, I'd like to know the real reason why you didn't want Hackett's team to build the Prothean device."

Shepard leaned into Liara's touch, drooping against the asari's taller form. "Remember Ilos?" She felt Liara flinch and sighed. "Liara, about that..."

Liara pressed her cheek against Shepard's soft, dark hair, remembering the night before Ilos when Shepard had spurned her clumsy advances, a mistake that Shepard still regretted even now. "I have forgiven you, haven't I?" she whispered, tightening her hold of the smaller woman.

"It doesn't change the fact that I hurt you," Shepard insisted, breathing in Liara's unique scent and shivering involuntarily. "I'm always so scared of losing you. I—"

Liara hushed her with a chaste kiss. "What about Ilos?" she inquired, fighting the urge to smirk at Shepard's blushing expression.

Shepard closed her eyes. "That was the day we found out that the Citadel was a mass relay from Vigil; that the reason why the Citadel purposefully became our galaxy's seat of power was because it was the fastest and easiest way the Reapers could subdue us: by killing our leaders first." There was a storm brewing in Shepard's normally placid, cloudy grey eyes when she opened them to regard Liara with a pained expression. "That was the day I promised myself that I would never again take for granted another civilization's technology. For too long our lives have been shaped by the Reapers. Let's face it: much of our progress was in part due to Reaper meddling."

"You think this weapon is another Reaper invention?"

"It would be a very clever ruse on their part, Liara," Shepard admitted. "I mean, don't you think it's a little too _convenient_ that we discover a super-weapon at the start of this war? A super-weapon that could potentially _destroy_ the Reapers once and for all? I don't know about you, but if I was part of an advanced race hell-bent on annihilating other civilizations, and I had the chance to leave behind technology that looked like remnants of the last civilization I razed to the ground, I would certainly leave a red herring for the next civilization, because not only would it be hilarious to watch them struggle for a lost cause, but I would not have to worry about them trying to do something I hadn't anticipated. Now consider that I am also an advanced _synthetic_ race. I would probably try to address every possible error that might go wrong, because it is against my very nature not to do so. Giving my enemies this 'Prothean super-weapon' minimizes my chances of stumbling into an error that I haven't considered, because my enemies would be thinking inside the dimensions that _I_ have established."

Liara chuckled. "You're doing that again."

"Doing what again?"

"Talking too quickly," Liara teased. "It's quite endearing."

Shepard childishly huffed and pouted. "I was being serious. Besides, it reminds me of our creed."

"Your creed?" Liara asked disbelievingly. "Like a prayer?"

"Rule no. 1 of tech school: if you didn't build it or know how to take it apart—don't use it. Better to use your own than tech that'll bite you in the ass someday." Shepard grinned. "Funny story that."

* * *

Talking to the Council proved to be less productive than Shepard had hoped. Now that the Reaper threat was here, the other Councillors were too busy worrying about the defenses of their home-worlds to consider sending aid to Earth where the brunt of the Reaper attack was, and although she had foreseen that this would happen, the Council's cold shoulder attitude towards her requests still felt like a heavy blow to the chest.

 _What is the use of a multispecies council if everyone is too preoccupied with their own self-interested needs?_ Shepard's grip on her beloved's hand tightened, unintentionally drawing Liara's attention. _Perhaps it would not hurt to strong-arm them into working together..._

No. Violence would not solve anything. Besides, the point of a Council was to have distinct voices that represented the entire galactic community. If Shepard took over and forced the Council to direct their combined army to aid Earth, then she was no better than them because she was also acting in her home-world's best interests. Besides, these Councillors were merely representatives of their species. Even if she could get their support, there would be someone else along the chain of command, questioning her motives and denying her the resources she needed. If she was going to get them to work together, then they needed to be convinced that she was the best solution to the Reaper problem.

Easier said than done.

"Shepard?"

"Hmm?"

"You look like you are about to murder someone," Liara observed lightly.

"Already considered that possibility," Shepard admitted absent-mindedly.

"Should I start looking for the Citadel's blueprints then, my love?"

Startled, Shepard turned to her smiling companion, sputtering, "N-no! I don't mean that we should—you know," she leaned forward and whispered, "kill them."

"I was merely teasing."

"No comment," Shepard grumbled darkly, but was inwardly pleased to see Liara in a brighter mood. Though Shepard had already apologized to her, Liara had seemed disappointed earlier when they were presenting the Crucible's plans to the Council. Liara's current job might be as the Shadow Broker, but Shepard could see that Liara was still a Prothean archaeologist first. "Liara," Shepard began uncertainly.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"We have as much information as Cerberus when it comes to the Crucible," Shepard said quietly. "If you still want to study the Prothean super-weapon, then I will not stop you." Shepard grimaced. "What I mean is, I think that it is a good idea if you wish to study the blueprints in more detail. Not that I mean that I disapprove of it. Hell, you can even ask my people for help—"

"Shepard, I'm fine." Liara tried to reassure her. "If you don't believe that the Crucible is the answer to this war, then that's fine too. I will follow you whatever you choose to do."

Shepard shook her head furiously. "I know you love studying the Protheans, Liara, and I don't want to take that away from you. Besides, studying the Crucible can be to our advantage as well. If Cerberus is going to make this super-weapon, then we damn well better know the destruction that it is capable of inflicting. I am not about to hand Cerberus a weapon that I don't know how to defend against."

Liara's gaze softened. "You are always thinking about me."

"Well, you're always on my mind."

The asari laughed and playfully bumped hips with her partner. "And you wonder why people keep chasing after you, Commander. You are such a flirt."

They entered Udina's office and, with collective nods, went to the opposite sides of the room, turning on their omni-tools and scanning the area for listening devices. As a former 'agent' of Cerberus and as the Shadow Broker, they had both gotten used to the prerequisites of secrecy, and that included sweeping an area where they wished to discuss in private.

"Is there a reason why you're waving your omni-tools around my room?" Udina inquired mildly upon entering.

Liara gave Shepard the 'go ahead' signal and moved to stand near the doorway. "I'm here to let you in on a secret, Udina," Shepard answered earnestly. "And we had to make sure that your room was clean."

The human Councillor shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Well?"

"We're not building the Crucible, sir."

"I'm sorry, but was I supposed to laugh at your pathetic attempt at mockery?" Udina paused and painstakingly set aside the datapad he was carrying on his desk before turning around to stare at his subordinate. "You're not lying, are you?"

"At this point, I am inclined to ask, 'Would I lie to you?' but I fear you would answer that with a straightforward, 'yes'."

"Shepard, in the name of all that is holy, can you stop being pert with me for a second?" Udina commanded through gritted teeth. "You are giving me a headache."

"I'll try, sir."

"Now, tell me again why you're not building this Crucible."

Shepard regarded the former human ambassador with cool, grey eyes, tempered with steel. "I'm afraid Cerberus succeeded in acquiring most of the data on the Prothean super-weapon before we could stop them and take the data for ourselves. Fortunately, Liara had some general schematics of the Crucible to show to the Councillors. We had hoped that they would take our bluff and send Earth aid."

"That was a very risky gamble, Shepard," Udina stated simply.

"I know, sir." Shepard admitted. "But we _need_ them on our side. This war cannot be won unless we stand together against the Reapers. And what better way to draw everyone together than to let them fight under a banner of hope?"

"Shepard," Liara called her commander's name quietly in warning just as the door slid open and the turian Councillor, Sparatus walked in.

"Was I interrupting something?" Sparatus asked upon seeing their grave expressions.

"We were simply talking about you, Councillor," Shepard said calmly.

"Do I even want to know the specifics of your conversation?" Sparatus asked dryly.

"I believe the words 'self-concerned jackasses' are a sufficient summary, sir."

The turian representative snorted. "I suppose I should be thankful that you have not yet sent assassins to kill us for being so ungraciously unaccommodating."

"Fortunately for you, Councillor, we are not so barbaric," Udina replied acidly, having recovered from the turian's sudden intrusion in their conversation.

"We are fortunate, indeed," Sparatus acknowledged solemnly. Looking past Udina, he regarded Shepard coolly, "I can't give you what you need, but I can tell you how to get it."

Shepard straightened and moved to parade rest, sizing Sparatus quietly. "I'm listening."

"Primarch Fedorian called for a war summit, but we lost contact with him when the Reapers hit Palaven," Sparatus began, his tone grave. "These meetings won't proceed without him." He bowed his head slightly in deference. "The Normandy is one of the few ships that can extract Primarch Fedorian from the Trebia System undetected."

"And if my crew extracts him, I would gain an ally for this war summit of yours." Shepard added, her expression remaining impassive.

"Exactly. The leaders of this summit will be the ones deciding our future: the fate of our fleets, where they fight, and with whom." Beckoning to the screen besides them, he continued, "Our latest intelligence says that the Primarch was moved to a base on Palaven's largest moon. If you can get him..."

Shepard's jaw muscles clenched, as her expression hardened. "I hope, for your sake, that you are not sending me on a wild goose chase, Councillor."

Sparatus blinked dumbly. "There are no geese in Palaven, Shepard."

"I believe it is a human idiom, Councillor Sparatus," Liara supplied helpfully. "A wild goose chase, in this case, means a futile pursuit. That is, she hopes that you are not going to waste her time with a mission that does not help our cause in the long run."

"I cannot promise you anything," Sparatus spoke ambiguously.

Shepard smirked. "At least I am reassured in the constancy of your character, Councillor." With a nod, she walked past the turian councillor and left Udina's office.

Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, she heard Udina say, "That was sarcasm, Sparatus," as Liara left the office to follow after her.

"You really like cutting your superiors off, don't you?" Liara asked wryly.

"It is my only joy," Shepard answered mock-seriously. "Well, besides being around you."

"And now you are just flirting with me again," Liara said, punching Shepard's shoulder playfully. The dark-haired woman caught her lover's hand.

"Only because I like seeing you flustered," Shepard admitted boldly. "Now, why don't we visit the Spectre's office and see what's so grand about this new addition to the Human embassy wing."

Liara already had Shepard pinned against the wall before the door to the Spectre's office had fully closed. "So I heard you like seeing me flustered, Shepard," Liara whispered in a sultry voice. Shepard, who hadn't realized that her invitation had a double-edged meaning to it, whimpered against Liara's touch.

"I r-really think that now isn't the time," Shepard protested weakly and gasped at the tickling sensation of Liara's soft lips against her scar.

"Oh, don't mind _me_ , Shepard," Kasumi added helpfully, disabling her stealth cloak. "I'm just here for the show."

Liara had her pistol drawn—where she had managed to hide it, Shepard did not want to know—and pointed at Kasumi before Shepard could even regain what little dignity she had possessed. Shepard slid on the floor and cradled her head instead. "Liara, meet Kasumi. Kasumi, meet our mutual friend—"

"Your beloved Shadow," teased Kasumi. She bowed dramatically. "The pleasure is all mine."

"You didn't tell me you were meeting with someone here," Liara muttered, scowling at Shepard.

"You didn't give me the chance to," was the sullen reply.

Liara gave the master thief a curt nod. "I take it you'll be joining us in the Normandy?"

Kasumi nodded. "If you don't mind."

"As long as you speak of this to no one."

"That's unlikely to happen," Shepard said dryly, finally getting to her feet. She took the pistol from Liara's raised hand and pulled her in an unexpected kiss, guiding Liara's hand to rest against her hip. "Kasumi's an incurable gossip," Shepard explained breathlessly after breaking the kiss, leaning her cheek against Liara's shoulder.

"I am not," Kasumi denied lightly.

"And you're my beloved information broker," Shepard continued, ignoring Kasumi's pouting expression. "I'm sure you two can work together to make things difficult for the rest of my crew."

"I'll think about it," Liara ceded, pulling Shepard close to her, a possessive glint in her blue eyes.

"Shiala is waiting in Bay D24, as you've requested." Kasumi grinned. "Talk to you later, Commander." The stealth cloak flared and hid the smiling thief once more.

Pulling her irritated lover towards the two terminals in the main area of the Spectre's office, Shepard took a moment to synchronize her omni-tool with both of them, giving her access to Spectre-only intel and Spectre gear. They both chuckled at the absurd prices of the different weapons being sold and exited the office after sharing another lingering kiss by the doorway, instigated by an apologetic Shepard.

They moved towards the elevator in companionable silence, interrupted only by an insistent reporter Shepard had crossed paths with before. Shepard remained unnaturally quiet as Khalisah al-Jilani assaulted her with questions concerning Earth. When the woman had run out of steam, Shepard subtly used her omni-tool to turn the camera off and pulled al-Jilani to the side, murmuring her condolences to the reporter. She understood the importance of the media in winning this war—after all, she _did_ allow that Allers woman to join her crew despite the predatory sidelong glance the reporter had given her. Encouraging al-Jilani to "keep asking the hard questions," Shepard felt supremely pleased with herself as she and Liara stepped into the elevator.

"You look like you've swallowed a canary, Commander," Liara observed lightly as the door to the elevator closed.

"What?"

"Oh, did I not use the idiom correctly?"

Shepard shook her head, clearing her disordered thoughts, and gave Liara a reassuring grin. "No, no. I was just surprised that you'd say that. Brushing up on our idioms, are you?"

Liara shrugged carelessly. "Well, if I am to spend the rest of my life with a human, I might as well learn a bit of their language."

"If that were only true," Shepard said wistfully. "I would love to be with you until the end of your lifetime."

"We'll make the most of it, Shepard," Liara promised. "Ah, I believe this is your stop?"

Shepard nodded and gave Liara's hand a gentle squeeze. "Make Shiala feel at home in the Normandy, will you?"

"Of course, Shepard."

Shepard passed through the hospital's lobby, listening keenly to the various conversations buzzing in the air. Her eyes swept across the room, taking note of the fraught faces among the loitering bodies. She walked past the reception desk and found herself grinning at the sight of two familiar faces. "Dr. Chakwas, Dr. Michel," she greeted the two doctors standing besides the broad windows overlooking the rest of the Citadel.

"Shepard," the two replied in unison.

"Ah, I see now why you turned down my offer, Dr. Michel," Shepard said, eyeing the younger of the two genially. "You've moved up since the last time we saw each other."

Dr. Michel dipped her head. "It is nice to be needed, Commander."

"And Dr. Chakwas, it's been, what, six months now? I heard you were working on an Alliance R&D lab in the Shalta Wards."

"That is true, Shepard. _I_ heard that you escaped Earth and that someone was critically injured, so I came here as fast as I could. With Dr. Michel's expertise, I'm sure Major Alenko will be back on his feet in no time."

"You flatter me, Dr. Chakwas."

"I speak only the truth, Doctor."

They talked idly for a while, simply basking in each other's presence. Dr. Michel tried to take her leave several times, wishing to give the two friends a bit more privacy, but Shepard kept reeling her back in to the conversation, asking after some mutual friend or some new medical treatment that she might have heard about. Eventually tiring of their conversation, Shepard implored Dr. Chakwas to join the Normandy once more, easily winning the older woman over.

Watching Dr. Chakwas retreat to the elevator to pick up her things, Dr. Michel said, "She is a very capable woman herself, Commander. I am sure her expertise will be missed down in the Wards."

"I agree," Shepard said sombrely. "But I need a medical officer on board. I don't want to lose people if I can help it. Dr. Michel?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"I understand if you feel that your place is here, helping these people," Shepard began. "I will not ask you a second time, though I would like to help you."

"Commander Shepard, you are already doing too much for the rest of the galaxy. I am sure I and my staff can get by on what we have."

"This is just the beginning, Dr. Michel," Shepard warned her. "It will not be long before this place can no longer accommodate everyone."

"And you can find them accommodations?"

"If you trust me," Shepard said quietly.

"This has to do with New Ilos, doesn't it?" Dr. Michel crossed her arms. "Why are you really offering this, Commander?"

"I don't trust the Citadel," Shepard explained in that same quiet tone. "I believe that it is only a matter of time before the Reapers manage to include the Citadel in their machinations once more. When that time comes, I want to get as many people out of this place as possible."

"Your dreadnought is a formidable ship, Commander, but it cannot possibly house everyone there."

Shepard inclined her head. "True—which is why my people are building liveships modelled after the ships the quarians possess. Unfortunately, I don't have the resources to build another Citadel."

"And all of these expenses are coming out of your pockets I hear."

"Ha! Yes. Even my resources are not as bottomless as others presume. If not for my patents"—Shepard shrugged helplessly—"well, I'm sure my people can get by."

"I will think about it, Commander."

"That is all I wanted to hear."

Shepard excused herself and moved towards the hospital room where Major Alenko was staying. Watching the rise and fall of the man's scarred chest, Shepard was at a loss for words; the speech that she had prepared earlier for the dozing major had vanished from her thoughts. She cautiously stepped forward, even as her eyes memorized every bruise, every cut, every mark in Kaidan's body that his armour had hidden from her just hours before.

When she had first met Kaidan, she had instantly taken a liking to the man. He had a softness in his eyes and a kindness in his stance that reminded her of John, her brother. He wasn't prejudiced as other humans were when it came to the other species, and when she had confessed to him that she only saw him as an older brother, he had taken it in stride. He even remained on good terms with Liara, though Shepard could see that there was still a tense air between the two whenever she was around.

And then Horizon happened.

She would never tell Kaidan that, but their meeting on Horizon had awakened a fiery anger in her, a monstrous hatred that would have consumed her if not for her friends' companionship and Liara's forgiving eyes. They had filled the hole that Kaidan had drilled in her heart; they had given her a family to protect again, when she thought she had none.

Still, she missed Kaidan. She knew that it was mostly because there was so much of John in him, particularly in their loyalty towards the Alliance and in their genuine desire to aid others. She knew that it was because it was easier to miss him than to grieve Ash's death. There were plenty of reasons. In the end, she knew that she would not stay angry at him for too long—could not, because she believed that he would eventually come around, and she would have a brother again.

_Don't let me down now, Kaidan._

Taking a deep breath, she gently picked up his hand and held it for a long time.

* * *

Specialist Samantha Traynor fidgeted near her work terminal besides the CIC's galaxy map, wishing she had something better to do than feel like a glorified secretary. As a comm. specialist, she had been working on the Normandy's upgrades when the Reapers attacked Earth. Now that most of the upgrades were finished, she felt like a redundant piece of machinery. Oh sure, she had her work cut out for her when it came to dealing with quantum entanglement, especially when there were several incoming resources and you had to do networking and extrapolations and so on, but she heard that the commander was a combat engineer and a brilliant tech specialist to boot. Heck, she heard that half of the protocols currently embedded in their system were the commander's own handiwork. _My God, how I would love to pick at her brain,_ she thought wistfully. _Would she be open to the idea of playing chess with me sometime?_ She shivered in anticipation, imagining Commander Shepard's slender fingers lightly stroking the queen's figure as the woman considered her next move. _And those dreamy grey eyes and dark curly locks and that earnest expression... I could just eat—_

The sound of the airlock opening from afar broke her out of her reverie, making her stand still. Had the commander returned from the Citadel already? Specialist Traynor hoped so. She planned on giving the commander a tour of the Normandy and get on her good graces, if she could. She heard that the woman was very nice and easy-going with a talent for making everyone feel at ease.

 _She could ease me in all sorts of ways_ , a seductive voice crooned in Specialist Traynor's ear, making her shiver yet again. Damn it! First she gets a crush on a VI's voice, and now she's lusting over the commander. _I am not a fickle creature_ , she told herself firmly.

"This is the Combat Information Centre where Shepard decides the Normandy's course of destination," a voice floated from just a few metres away. Specialist Traynor found herself grudgingly saluting Shepard's XO, the asari archaeologist and Shadow Broker, Dr. T'soni. She was lightly conversing with a green-skinned asari, a rare sight for the comm. specialist.

"You make it sound like I'll be staying here for a while," the other asari noted jokingly.

Dr. T'soni hesitated. "I'd like that."

Specialist Traynor almost raised an eyebrow but averted her gaze instead, staring at the terminal before her with unfocused eyes. The commander had only been gone for a few hours, and already Dr. Tsoni had the gall to flirt with another asari?

"It has been three years since Mother died, and I feel as if I have not properly grieved for her death," Dr. T'soni admitted in a hushed tone.

"We are at war, Liara," the other asari reminded her coldly. "It will do you no good to summon old ghosts now."

"I don't need ghosts," Dr. T'soni replied as they entered the elevator. "I just need some resolution."

 _Well, perhaps not,_ Specialist Traynor amended reluctantly, a sigh escaping her lips.

"Do you know where I might find this ship's requisitions officer?"

Specialist Traynor almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden intrusion of another woman's voice in her thoughts. She looked around her immediate surroundings and felt her blood run cold. Where the hell was the voice coming from? Had Dr. T'soni brought a ghost on board?

"Ah, sorry about that," the disembodied voice said in an amiable tone. A moment later, a hooded woman appeared next to Specialist Traynor, causing the young woman faint.

"It's good to have you back, Kasumi," EDI said with a touch of humour in her voice.

"It's good to be back, EDI. Oh, but I seem to have encountered a problem," The master thief complained and sighed theatrically whilst prodding Specialist Traynor's cheek with a gloved finger. "Shepard asked me to acquire some new equipment for her, and I cannot help but wonder: who will help me carry those things _now_?"


	3. the Silence in Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't expect 8k chapters all of the time. The last two were a fluke. :P

**Chapter Two -the Silence in Between**

_For the first time in weeks, Shepard awoke from a dreamless sleep, completely and utterly content. Ever since she had blown up the Bahak system, she had been plagued by dreams of the dying; waking nightmares were her constant companions in the realm of sleep, introducing towering silhouettes and invading her senses with the overpowering stench of blood and excrement, the strangled cries of faceless victims ringing clearly in her ears. Each new scene that unfurled in her dreamscape brought with it a fresh set of scars seared underneath her flesh, three hundred thousand names inscribed within. If ever she thought that a cosmic balance existed now, she knew without a doubt that her crimes against the batarians far outweighed whatever crime they might have committed against the rest of humanity. Lady Justice would not be on her side this time, as she had been when Shepard had sacrificed thousands of Alliance soldiers to save the Destiny Ascension._

_She should not have had to make that second sacrifice. If they had been more prepared, if she had not been so scared, perhaps..._

_Perhaps..._

_Beside her, Liara stirred, pulling her closer and burrowing her face against the curve of Shepard's shoulder, tickling her out of her grim thoughts. Chuckling, she traced the contour of Liara's nose, making the asari twitch. Mesmerizing blue eyes opened blearily to stare at Shepard curiously. Shepard could feel the lingering tendrils of Liara's mind brushing against hers and flinched, drawing her hand away._

_"Is everything alright, Shepard?"_

_The commander remained quiet, curling her hand close to her chest as she slowly disentangled the rest of her limbs from Liara's. The possibility of joining minds again with her beloved frightened her, especially now when her thoughts were of a darker shade, and lacked the warmth and joy of being in Liara's presence._

_"Shepard," Liara spoke in a more forceful tone, tightening her grip on her commander. "You can tell me anything."_

_"Do you," Shepard whispered hoarsely and faltered. "I hope my mind wasn't so..." She waved her hand weakly, unable to say anything for once. What could she say that did not touch upon her recent guilt? "I hope I did not scare you away with the violence of my past?" No, no. "I hope my mind wasn't so—"_

_"Overwhelming?" Liara supplied, startling Shepard out of her bitter reverie. Fearful grey eyes flickered upwards to meet fierce blue ones. "I think your mind is beautiful, my love," Liara drawled, capturing Shepard's lips in a brief kiss. Moving her fingers through Shepard's curly dark hair, she continued, "It is so full of compassion, of heady, intoxicating determination, of calculated decisions, of beautiful ideas blossoming under caring hands," —Liara's fingers traced Shepard's jaw, before moving further downwards to caress her scar gently—"of broken memories against a backdrop of misery and tragedy, of mistakes and regrets—your mind is like a vast, unexplored star chart; I might have seen so much from a single glance, but I feel as if I know you less now than I did before."_

_Shepard's gaze wilted. "Oh."_

_Liara sighed at her lover's downcast expression. Kissing Shepard's nose, she teased quietly, "Sometimes I wonder if you have selective hearing."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I just," Liara shook her head and laughed. "I take it, you don't know what a compliment is until I spell it out for you?"_

_Shepard flushed and mumbled an apology._

_"Last night was wonderful." Liara punctuated carefully. "So wonderful in fact, that you are going to make the next few months difficult for me." Before Shepard could misinterpret her words again, she clarified, "I doubt the Alliance allows for conjugal visits."_

* * *

The captain's cabin seemed so eerily empty—even the fish Shepard used to take care of were missing from their usual place. The display case where Shepard kept her model ships was hidden in a blanket of darkness, its surface peppered with data feeds, communication logs and the occasional blueprint of a ship or a machine component. Before the screen was Shepard's slouched form, her private terminal flickering insistently as new messages appeared in her screen. To the casual eye, the room seemed more like an office than a bedroom, with the couch and bed free of wrinkles, and the armour locker glowing dully from inactivity.

Shepard jerked suddenly from her sleeping position, splotches of sweat staining the floor a dark colour. Her chest rose and fell erratically, as if she had been running for a long time and was out of breath. Her vision darkened, and all she could see were the figures of barren trunks against a stark grey sky. Stumbling out of her seat, she fell gracelessly on the floor, arms stinging from a barely controlled roll. The slight incandescence coming from the fish tank's lights fell across Shepard's dazed expression, turning her skin into a shade of blue.

The mechanical door to her quarters slid open, revealing a concerned Liara who was about to knock. "S-Shepard?"

"Liara, can I help you?"

From her position on the floor, it was hard for Shepard to see just what kind of expression Liara was making. When Liara didn't answer, Shepard prodded with another question, "Am I in trouble?" She paused and found the query absurd. Of course she was in trouble! If she had to ask, then she was merely verifying an already established given. "Forgive me?"

"Sometimes I wonder if your bed serves a purpose other than to look extremely inviting to a subordinate unused to that kind of luxury."

"If you recall, it does serve another purpose, yes," Shepard replied lightly, fondly remembering their first night together prior to her departure for Earth. She caught a glimpse of Liara's blushing expression—apparently she had remembered too—before the asari took several steps forward, hiding her visage from Shepard's piercing grey eyes.

"I do recall," Liara spoke softly, a hint of wistfulness in her dulcet voice. She turned around and offered Shepard a hand, pulling her to her feet. The commander clumsily stumbled into her open arms, fatigue making Shepard bone-weary. "I'm tempted to ravish you right now," Liara whispered huskily, making Shepard shiver involuntarily, "but you're unlikely to satisfy me at your current strength."

"I am perfectly well-rested," Shepard protested.

Eyeing her commander leaning against her taller frame, Liara smirked. "I can see that." Shepard frowned, an irritated blush creeping on her cheeks, prompting Liara to laugh unexpectedly.

"You are incorrigible," Shepard sullenly declared.

"And you are such a child," Liara retorted playfully, leading Shepard to her untouched bed.

A few seconds later, the door whirred and slid open, revealing a young woman in parade rest. "Commander Shepard? I'm Specialist—Oh. Oh!" She took a step back and froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I-I beg your pardon. I thought you were alone," she exclaimed before beating a hasty retreat back to the elevator.

Liara buried her face against Shepard's back. "You are going to be the death of me."

Still seated on Liara's lap, Shepard could only shake her head wryly, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "EDI, please tell Specialist Samantha Traynor that she may properly introduce herself to me a later time. In the CIC perhaps?"

"I will, Shepard," EDI said amiably. "Would you like me to lock your door in case there are further intrusions?"

"No need, EDI," Liara replied, her voice muffled by Shepard's shirt. She loosened her grip on Shepard, allowing her grinning lover to sit beside her. "That will be all."

Meeting Shepard's adoring gaze, Liara found her agitation ebbing away. "Thank you for brightening my day, Liara," Shepard said warmly.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's enough." Liara frowned at her beloved. "You know, sleep isn't so bad, Shepard. You really should try it sometime. I'm sure our scientists in New Ilos can live without you for a few hours. _More_ than a few hours."

"Hmm." Shepard let her torso fall on the unnaturally soft bed. "This room feels so empty without you."

Liara leaned closer, an arm pressed against Shepard's left side, her face hovering just a few inches away from her beloved's. "Is that an invitation, Shepard?"

Shepard's lips perked in a half-smile. "I wish it were."

Brushing back strands of Shepard's hair with her free hand, Liara asked, "What's bothering you, my love?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a grimace.

"Shepard..."

"When I close my eyes, I am dogged by visions of the dying," Shepard confessed finally. "We left so many behind, Liara. Why do we keep leaving so many behind? For the sake of some greater good?" A sigh exploded from Shepard's lips. Tugging at Liara's arm, she turned to her side and wrapped the arm around her shoulder. She felt her XO shift slightly behind her, moving to a more comfortable position, another arm snaking around her waist. "It's so easy to lose yourself in some colossal purpose—so damn immeasurable that you can only see parts of a bigger picture. It's so easy to put your faith in the Crucible, in the Alliance—if I could just be another soldier in this fucking war..." She shook her head fiercely. "No. It has to be me. Someone else will just get it wrong."

"It doesn't mean that you must carry the entire burden yourself."

"I know," Shepard yielded wearily. Lulled by the sound of Liara's even breathing against her ear, Shepard slowly relaxed, the knot of tension in her chest that had plagued her throughout the night dwindling to an insignificant mote in the presence of Liara's radiant affection. She fell into a light slumber, feeling secured in her lover's arms and stirring occasionally as she mumbled some arcane formula or algorithm. Liara, who was content to stay beside her, nestled closer, pressing her chin lightly on Shepard's collarbone.

"Pardon the interruption, Doctor," EDI murmured from the intercom a couple of hours later, sounding genuinely apologetic, "but Rear Admiral Shepard wishes to talk with the commander in her private channel in here."

"I believe that's my cue to leave," Liara said reluctantly, pulling away from Shepard. The commander blinked groggily, watching her beloved stand up and stretch effortlessly through squinted eyes. "I will be in my office if you need me, Shepard."

"Liara," Shepard called.

"Yes, Shepard?"

Eyes turned downcast as Shepard searched for the right words to say, one hand rifling through her hair. Finally, with a bashful grin she said, "I hope you have room in your office." Cloudy grey eyes wrinkled in faint amusement. "Because I think you're the cure to my insomnia."

"Are you implying that I am boring, Shepard?"

* * *

"Ah, this is so boring. The tension is killing me," James growled, throwing away the towel he was using to wipe his gun. "Can't we fucking get to Palaven already?"

"Technically, we're heading to Menae," Steve corrected him.

"Whatever, Esteban. I don't need you ruining my day too," James growled, leaning on the other side of the control panel to glare at Steve.

"Because you tried making a pass at the asari earlier and she stonewalled you?"

"I was just being friendly," James protested.

"I don't know, James," a new voice interrupted their light bickering. "With your hulking figure and perpetual grimace, others can take your 'being friendly' the wrong way."

James turned to glower at his superior officer. With any other CO, James knew that he would have gotten a cuff to the ear by now for a blatant show of insubordination, but Shepard was different; Shepard was _loco._ "Come here to play shrink on me again, Doc?" James asked ironically, bracing his hands against his hips.

Shepard waved his accusation aside and shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't have a Ph.D. for that, James."

"Doesn't stop you from psycho-analyzing me though," James grumbled. "But I suppose I should count myself lucky." At Shepard's raised eyebrow, he clarified, "Coz you'll always be shorter than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shepard asked, punching James's shoulder playfully.

Catching Shepard's hand, James teased, "It means it's easier for me to kiss you."

"I completely agree, James," Liara interjected from the intercom. "And if you do try to prove that point right now, I will shove a singularity so far up your anus, you will be incapable of defecation for, oh, the rest of your short and miserable, human life."

"Ever get the feeling you're being watched, Lola?"

Shepard gently pulled her hand free. "All the time, James."

"Sorry, Blue," James announced. "Your woman's off-limits. Gotcha."

Steve, who had been watching the brief interplay, was bent over, laughing soundlessly. "Be wary of that one, Mr. Vega. Sounds like she meant what she said."

James snorted. "Don't need you to remind me, Esteban." To Shepard he said, "Now that we've filled the 'make fun of James Vega' quota for the day, what is it that you really came here for, Lola?"

Shepard nodded and beckoned for James to follow him. Heading for Kei-9, the Shuttle Bay's newly adopted pet, she squatted and offered the mechanical dog an open palm, making James raise both eyebrows in bemusement. "Are you just here to visit the damn dog, Shepard?" _Well,_ he thought wryly, _with Shepard, you don't really know for certain. She could be teaching it tricks, for all I care. Or installing portable lasers while I ain't lookin'._

"I'm not going to Menae," Shepard declared abruptly.

"What? So we're not saving the Primarch after all?" James raised both hands. "Okay. Didn't think you'd have the _cojones_ to piss off the Council like that, but I guess I underestimated your level of _loco_ , Lola."

"I may have a history of insubordination with the Council," Shepard retorted, "but that doesn't mean I'll look a gift horse in the mouth." She tilted her face upwards to look at James gravely. "You and Liara are going to have to extract the Primarch from Menae without me."

"Right-o, then. And I suppose you want me to follow Blue's orders and keep her safe?"

"Just the latter will do," Shepard said reassuringly.

James blinked, masking his surprise with a noncommittal grunt. "You expecting me to lead, Commander?"

"I'm expecting you to find a good friend of mine," Shepard replied evenly. "Goes by the name of Garrus Vakarian. Between the three of you, he has the most experience when it comes to combat situations. Liara will handle the diplomatic stuff, of course."

Remembering the asari's earlier threat, James smirked. "Of course." Offering Shepard a hand, he asked mildly. "And I suppose that leaves me with the toughest assignment of the three?"

"Which is?"

"Looking pretty."

"I suppose it's doable," Shepard ceded, taking the proffered hand. "Just keep your helmet on at all times."

James chuckled and saluted, "Aye." He continued to watch Shepard even as the woman retreated to her workstation, her hands moving quickly as she began to dismantle her weapons with surprising speed. She'd also made a point of modifying Liara's and Kaidan's equipment, though she kept a respectful distance from James's weapons locker, a move that James silently appreciated; he liked doing the repairs and modifications himself.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, Lola," he began, leaning against a support beam. "But where the hell are you going if you're not coming with us?"

The silence he received was startlingly unexpected. In the months he had been tasked to keep an eye on the Commander, he had always known her to eagerly jump to an explanation. Heck, there were times when he had entertained the idea of shutting that chattering mouth with a kiss on the lips, a threat he knew he could no longer make with Liara on board.

Grimly, Shepard set aside the M-98 Widow she was servicing—a strange choice of weapon, considering that particular sniper rifle was not meant for human hands—and folded her arms, her gaze sombre. "I'm going to stop two good friends from going to war against each other."

* * *

_"...Your woman's off-limits. Gotcha."_

"Thanks for the warning, Glyph," Liara muttered, turning off her comm. link to the Shuttle Bay.

"The pleasure is all mine, Dr. T'soni," the VI replied politely. Seated beside the other terminal across the room, Shiala did her best to maintain a straight face in case Liara turned to look at her.

It was... odd being here. She had no purpose, really. The colonists were safe in Virmire, preparing for the influx of displaced refugees who would eventually come, given time. They were also there to receive treatment from some of the best doctors in the galaxy, thanks in part to Commander Shepard, who had shown an interest in the Thorian's thrall over the colonists. Her doctors were years away from an actual cure that could purge their bodies of the Thorian's spores, but Shiala knew from experience that the medicine that they had created could at least chase away the nightmares that came with the Thorian's influence. Since accepting the commander's offer to move from Feros, Shiala had been able to sleep without interruptions. Catching a glimpse of the commander just hours earlier, Shiala couldn't help but wonder if Shepard's own sleepless nights had been the price she had to pay for working such miracles.

...And Liara.

It had been good to see her again, of course, though Shiala was admittedly a little unsettled by the archaeologist's sudden change of demeanour. Gone was the shy maiden who burrowed holes in Matriarch Benezia's beautiful gardens in the name of science, and in her place was a confident warrior whose intellect and biotic potential could rival the most veteran of asari commandos in a firefight. Without a doubt, Shiala knew that the matriarch would be proud.

Shiala's frown deepened as she remembered yesterday's conversation.

"Is something troubling you, Shiala?" Liara asked lightly, taking a sip of the coffee that seemed to be perpetually by her side.

"Ah, I was just reminiscing," the matron replied vaguely. "It was not so long ago, when I was on another ship that was so full of purpose."

Liara nodded in understanding and returned to her work without a second's pause. "What was it like, being inside Sovereign?"

"Dreadful," Shiala admitted. "The food was edible, sure, but I'd rather not find out what it was actually made of. Their bathrooms left a lot to be desired and the air always had a faint putrid stench to it. The sleeping quarters were also cramped and even less comfortable to sleep in than a regular sleeper pod. If not for the fact that we were all indoctrinated, people would have mutinied. Or killed themselves." She paused. "Or both."

Liara snorted. "I can't imagine wanting to follow anyone while living under such horrible conditions."

"I can." Raw, visceral anger blossomed in her chest, stretching through the far corners of her body—a white-hot rage with an intensity of a dwarf star. As soon as it expanded, it quickly collapsed inwardly, compressing within her heart, her body drooping with sudden exhaustion.

Liara stopped what she was doing and briefly glanced at Shiala. "I'm sorry."

"No," Shiala raised a hand and faltered, realizing she had used a human gesture. Resting both hands on her lap, she added, "I should be the one apologizing. I was quite... frigid yesterday."

"I was being too forward," Liara rebuffed. "I shouldn't have—"

The dwarf star, which was previously in decline, exploded into a supernova of pent-up anger, releasing bitterness and regret in its wake.

"You shouldn't have to apologize for wanting to lay your mother's ghost to rest," Shiala retorted sharply. "You shouldn't have to apologize for all those airheaded vixens who called themselves followers of the matriarch, and then turned their backs on her the moment she was labelled a traitor by the asari government!" Breathing heavily, she hadn't realized that she had stood up until Liara had covered the distance between them and pulled her in a fierce embrace.

"Oh, Shiala."

Tears sliding down her cheeks, Shiala murmured, "I tried to contact them, you know. I tried to tell them what really happened. They wouldn't listen. They thought I was just spouting silly propaganda for the commander. The great Matriarch Benezia? Indoctrinated?" She laughed bitterly. "What an absurd tale, Shiala! Surely the Reapers cannot be real. Shame on you for using a mere myth to rationalize the matriarch's _reprehensible_ actions!"

"It is their loss."

"I know," Shiala agreed, guilt clogging her throat. "I know."

Almost on cue, the door to Liara's office opened. "Ms. Shiala, Dr. Chakwas wanted to talk to—Oh."

* * *

Specialist Samantha Traynor, Kasumi decided, had the worst luck on the Normandy. She wondered if the young woman had angered some trickster _kami_ in another lifetime, or if she just had a natural knack for embarrassing herself. _I almost feel bad for scaring her yesterday. Almost._

Kasumi watched in amusement as the red-faced specialist escorted Shiala to the med-bay, burning holes at the datapad she held in her hands—the poor chit. The woman hadn't done anything wrong, not really. Her timing was just really off. Or really spot on—if she was part of a comedy troupe that is. Nevertheless, Kasumi did not envy her position as Shepard's new glorified secretary. Besides, she had better things to do.

"Are you ready, Kasumi?"

Like kicking some ass and taking some names.

"Always, Shepard." She deactivated her cloak and grinned at her commander, who was standing restlessly by the elevator, carrying the case that contained her armour. "How did you know I was here?"

"Your stealth cloak needs more calibrations. I was able to detect uneven heat emissions in this area of the ship." Shepard explained without a moment's pause. She turned on her omni-tool, and with her free hand, began making notes on how to improve Kasumi's stealth cloak. "When I have time, you can come by the captain's—Liara's office and I can make the necessary changes for you there."

Kasumi raised a delighted eyebrow at Shepard's sudden correction. "Did I hear that right, Shepard? Liara's office?"

"I don't need to repeat myself twice," the shorter woman huffed.

The thief's grin turned into a full Cheshire. They both knew that Kasumi was a terrible gossip, always jumping at the opportunity to glean some juicy detail from an unsuspecting crew member. The commander hadn't been lying when she said that Kasumi would be an invaluable agent for the Shadow Broker; her insatiable desire to learn more about others and her attention to detail allowed her to write very comprehensive profiles that other agents could then later use to their advantage. The best thing about it was that it was never her primary job. Often, when Shepard sent her to do missions through the Shadow Broker, she was actually doing things that she enjoyed, like sabotaging Cerberus facilities and stealing tech from them. The commander knew very well where Kasumi's true heart lay and had the forethought to give her assignments that best suited her. _It's one of her more endearing traits,_ Kasumi thought fondly.

They stepped out of the elevator and into the CIC, walking past the galaxy map and towards the airlock which was currently connected to the entrance of the ship that they were about to board, a frigate modelled after the SR-2's design that their captain had named 'SSV Virmire'.

"See ya, Commander," Joker shouted from the ship's helm. "Don't come crying back to me if their pilot makes you space sick. I can't help it if I have the smoothest ride on the galaxy."

"I don't know about that, Joker," Shepard replied lightly. "Virmire's been fitted with experimental parts the Alliance haven't even green-lighted, mostly because they haven't _heard_ of them yet."

"Well, damn."

Hearing the door close behind them, Kasumi leaned forward and asked, "Is that true?"

"Nah," Shepard smirked and whispered back. "I was just yanking his chain."

"I can still hear you, Commander."

"I know." Shepard paused dramatically. "Virmire _does_ have a bigger gun though." Leaving a sputtering Joker behind, they moved through the narrow hallway connecting the two frigates in companionable silence. Kasumi, who was used to the commander lapsing into silence, hummed a jaunty tune, even as she discreetly appraised Shepard's condition. The commander's lips were slightly upturned, and her normally drowsy eyes were alight with quiet pleasure. Her stance was relaxed and, for once, she didn't seem weighed down by some monstrous problem.

_I hope you're not playacting for my benefit, Shepard_. The last time she had seen the commander like this, they were about to pass through the Omega 4 Relay, just hours before the Normandy's crew were taken by the Collectors.

...and just hours after Shepard had visited Liara in Hagalaz.

Huh.

_Is it strange that I feel jealous of Liara?_ Kasumi smiled bitterly. _Is it strange that I wish I could somehow cheer her up too? Damn it, Shepard. Do you even know how many of us are bloody in love with you?_

Unaware of Kasumi's sardonic thoughts, Shepard stepped into the other ship's airlock and rested her case down against her thigh, saluting smartly as a salarian appeared from the adjoining door. "Captain Kirrahe. My mother told me I'd be seeing a familiar face. It's good to see you again."

Kirrahe saluted back. "Commander Shepard, it is good to see you too. Although, it's major now."

"Virmire, I suspect?"

Kirrahe's eyes crinkled with pride. "Yes, indeed. However, as I am currently the head of this space-faring vessel," he said, beckoning for them to follow him, "I suppose captain is the appropriate rank."

"The SSV Virmire isn't an Alliance ship, Major," Shepard protested. "There is no need to abide by our ranks."

Kirrahe simply tilted his head and flashed a smile at their direction. "I serve under you now, Commander. I can abide by your terminology."

"I don't know about you military types," Kasumi interjected. "But this ship isn't really under any command structure, so I don't see why we even need to uphold rank."

"She is right, Commander Shepard," Kirrahe acknowledged. "In here, we are equals."

"If you say so, Major Kirrahe."

Kasumi pressed her fingertips against her forehead and shook her head wryly. _Well, I suppose that is an improvement at least._ She turned her attention towards the other members of Kirrahe's Virmire. Just like with the Normandy, the SSV Virmire was a multispecies vessel. Salarians and asaris were at the bridge, coordinating with the helmsman and the engineers in the lower decks, and making minute changes to the ship's trajectory. She even saw a glimpse of an elcor lumbering around, a genius strategist, she would later learn, who was in charge of the ship's VI combat system.

The one who piqued her interest the most, however, was the ship's pilot: Feron, Liara's second-in-command. Kasumi had interacted with the drell before and had sensed an uneasy tension between him and Shepard. Was it because of his close friendship with Liara? Kasumi wondered. Certainly, it seemed plausible. Besides, Kasumi knew that Shepard tended to rein in her emotions quite well, despite the various, irritating characters she had to deal with on a daily basis. For her to sound so stilted whenever his name was brought up—well, it made Kasumi quite curious, to say the least.

"Welcome aboard, Commander," a rumbling baritone interrupted Kasumi's thoughts. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, Feron," Shepard spoke graciously, eyeing the nearest intercom speakers passively. "It is good to hear your voice."

"And yours."

Watching her commander discreetly, Kasumi angled her head slightly, hiding her visage in the shadows of her hood, and smiled. This was going to be an interesting trip.

* * *

The reports Liara had read on Palaven did not prepare her for the horrifying visions of destruction she now saw aboard the UT-47A Kodiak. Ugly pockmarks were scattered across the surface of Palaven as well as blistering, red lines which trailed across the gentle curves of the turian home-world, intersecting with each other like spindly spider webs, mapping the blaze of carnage that the Reapers left behind. Her hand brushed against the Kodiak's hatch as she gaped at the once beautiful planet now stained with fire and violent silhouettes of towering monstrosities. "What are you waiting for, Blue?" James demanded from behind. "Let's move!"

Steeling her resolve, she pulled the modified M-6 Carnifex from its magnetized holster and nodded soberly. "Follow my lead," she commanded softly. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Cortez." Two singularities blossomed amongst a cluster of approaching husks, bursting into flames from a hail of gunfire from the lieutenant. The turian soldier near the outpost was taken aback by the efficiency of their attacks and saluted belatedly. "If you are looking for our commanding officer, he's just around the bend."

Liara nodded her thanks and jogged lightly towards the fort the turians had built, her eyes tangentially glancing at the hulking figure of a Reaper Destroyer in the distance. Several turians from above the rocky walls saluted her, a novelty, considering she wasn't exactly military. "Hold your fire! Friendly inbound," a voice shouted from behind the sturdy fortifications integrated into the fort's natural defences.

"Was it like this on Earth?" Liara finally spoke, in a voice husky with emotion.

"Worse," James replied acerbically. "At least Palaven looks like it has a fighting chance."

The stench of the dead assaulted their senses upon entering the large fortress. From inside one of the roofed enclosures, Liara could see body bags strapped against the floor, a deceptively small number, when you consider how many of the dead were usually left behind.

They found the commanding officer a few metres away, giving orders to his men. He was a striking figure in red and black, the sharp hooks of his mandibles particularly prominent against the turian equivalent of cheekbones. The white and gold paint marks along the ridges of his horns and his mandibles shone even more conspicuously against the dark carapace, making him a handsome specimen by turian standards. "Tobesik, get your men up on that north barricade. Sergeant Bartus, find a way to get that comm. tower operational."

"General Corinthus," Liara greeted the turian officer as she climbed up the ramp and holstered her pistol.

"I heard Commander Shepard was coming." Penetrating green orbs stared at them icily. "Neither of you look like her."

"We are her envoys, General," Liara rebutted stolidly. "We've come here to get Primarch Fedorian."

"Envoys?" Corinthus snorted. "Can't be bothered to come here herself, eh?"

"She's heading to the other side of this damn galaxy to stop another war from happening," James retorted defensively. "Be grateful she even sent us."

Liara pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Please, General. We have no quarrel with you. We just want the primarch."

"Well he's dead," Corinthus growled. "His shuttle was shot down an hour ago as it tried to leave the moon." Glancing away, his shoulders drooped as weariness seeped into his rigid posture. "We just lost about four hundred men in half an hour," he added in a milder tone. "We set up camps on this moon as an advance position, to flank the enemy—a sound strategy. Just..."

"Bloody, fucking pointless against those damn Reapers," James interjected.

"Exactly," Corinthus agreed. "The sheer force of those Reapers seems to make them immune to that sort of tactic." He met James's gaze squarely. "The primarch and his men found that out the hard way."

Liara, sensing the pain of his loss underneath the angry visage, touched his shoulder gently. "We're sorry to hear that. Shepard told me he was a good man, and a very capable strategist."

Corinthus closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "He was also a friend. He would have made an outstanding diplomat."

"Well what the hell do we do now?" James asked impatiently. "Do we kidnap the General here instead?"

Liara shook her head. "The turian hierarchy provides very clear lines of succession. General Corinthus?"

"With such heavy casualties, it's hard for me to be certain who the next primarch is. Palaven Command should know." He waved his omni-tool across the three-dimensional map and grimaced. "However, at the moment, contacting them is impossible. The comm. tower is still out."

"I heard Sergeant Bartus—?"

Corinthus shook his head. "Husks are swarming that area. My sergeant and his men need backup if they're to repair the tower successfully."

"Leave that to us, General Corinthus," Liara promised. "We'll give them a clear path to the comm. tower."

Corinthus regarded both of them silently. With a tilt of his head, he said grudgingly, "Don't get yourself killed out there. I'd hate to have to break the news to your commander that her lover and her new pet marine were killed by a bunch of husks."

"Pet marine?" James cried incredulously.

"How in the Goddess's name—?"

Corinthus smirked. "Gossip spreads like wildfire amongst us turian soldiers. A legendary figure like Commander Shepard?" He chuckled. "It's nice to know she's as turian as the rest of us."

The two exchanged startled looks. "The fuck," James exclaimed succinctly.

They headed towards the left of the main barricade where the comm. tower was located. Climbing up a rocky incline, they went past another gate, jogging towards a group of turian soldiers near the cliff. "Sergeant Bartus?"

"Ma'am?"

"We need you to repair the tower, soldier. Think you can do that?"

Bartus looked at his companions. "Ma'am, with all due respect, we can't take out all of those husks on our own."

"That's what we're here for," James growled. "Your men should go back to the barricades and regroup with the others."

Bartus saluted resolutely. To his men, he said, "You heard the man! Fall back!"

The trek towards the comm. tower was a slow one, despite its reasonably short distance from the fort. Bartus was a good soldier, if a bit set in his ways in conventional battle. After taking out another wave of husks, Liara took a moment to modify Bartus's assault rifle—allowing for incendiary ammo—earning her a grateful look from the sergeant. She waved aside his murmur of thanks and focused on another group of husks, throwing a stasis field for James's convenience. The modification had been easy enough, partly because she had managed to pick up a mod or two in the fort, partly because James's gun already had the necessary codes to unlock that particular feature in Bartus's assault rifle, and partly because of Shepard's influence. Wistfully, she remembered those halcyon moments in between missions when Shepard would visit her in the med-bay storage area, asking after her well-being, teaching her how to mod a gun, watching her with unbridled fascination as she showed the commander simple biotic manoeuvres...

Even back then, Shepard had already loved her.

Others might scoff at her for making such assumptions. The commander? In love with a bashful archaeologist who forgot her biotics half the time and couldn't shoot a charging krogan if it was right in front of her? And an _alien_ to boot?

But Liara knew.

There was something about Shepard, something unique about her that allowed Liara to feel the commander's emotions as if they were her own, even before they had first made love to each other just months before. It had started as a tingling sensation the first time they had met in the crumbling walls of the dig site on Therum and gradually intensified until she could anticipate the commander's irregular visitations with startling accuracy.

And yet, despite the commander's blatant affection for her—

"Sergeant Bartus, the comm. tower is yours," Liara said, stuffing that last memory at the back of her mind. There was no time to wallow in unhappy memories. Shepard had given her a task to do, and she intended to see it through.

Since the husks were incapable of gunfire, James and Liara positioned themselves around the comm. tower, each facing another direction so as to ensure that none of the fleet-footed husks could sneak up behind them and overwhelm them. Liara was glad for the M-6 Carnifex Shepard had lent her. It was heavier than her old pistol, but could easily take the husks down in one or two well-placed shots. From the seemingly endless number of husks swarming them, she knew that using her biotics every single time to neutralize the enemies would eventually drain her. It was better to rely on her pistol, her wits, and her teammate, who more than made up for the lack of biotic explosions.

"Ma'am, I've repaired the tower," Bartus called from above.

"Hear that, General?" James asked. "The comm. tower's now good to go."

"Much appreciated, you two," Corinthus replied from their shared comm. link. "Contacting Palaven Command now."

"Thank you, General."

"In the mean time, we'll be here cleaning up this Reaper shit storm," James said a little breathlessly. "Team Shepard out."

"Tiring already, Mr. Vega?" Liara teased, sending a team of husks flying with a flick of her wrist.

"Are you kidding? I'm just getting warmed up!"

With the added back up of turian snipers shooting from above the barricades, Liara was relieved to note that the pressure of husks was finally abating. Sagging against an outcrop, Liara nodded her thanks when Bartus came back with some thermal clips he had found in a case nearby. Slapping a fresh clip on, she took a moment to take down some husks, the constant recoil of the heavy pistol tiring her arm. Eventually, Corinthus called them again after a moment of inactivity from the enemy. His voice sounded grave on the comm. link as he asked all three of them to return.

"Hey, Blue, what do you think happened?" James asked, as they returned to the fort, easily keeping up with the turian sergeant who was built for speed.

"Palaven Command has likely found difficulty in contacting the next-in-line," Liara guessed. "Either that, or there's been too many dead, and they're just as lost as we are."

"Can't they just play rock-paper-scissors or sommat?" James grumbled under his breath.

"I believe it's hard for them to distinguish between paper and scissors with only three fingers, James."

"So it's James now, eh?"

"A slip of tongue—forgive me," Liara said, feigning apologetic.

Bartus left their three-man team once they had arrived inside the fort's walls once more, heading for higher ground where the rest of his group was stationed. He gave them one final salute before scrambling up the metal ladders, proudly carrying his modified assault rifle with one hand.

"What's wrong, General Corinthus?"

"It's worse than what I expected." Corinthus spoke somberly. "Succession is usually straightforward, but with so many dead or MIA, the hierarchy's a bloody mess right now."

Liara's heart fell. The primarch was dead, and Palaven Command was in chaos. Surely there was something they could do? The Shadow Broker in her reared its defiant head. _No compromises, Liara._ "Well I _need_ someone," Liara spoke in a tone that would not take 'no' for an answer. "I don't give a damn who he or _she_ is, as long as this primarch can get us the turian resources we need." And because she was still Liara, who cared about being nice and polite to others, she added imploringly, " _Please_ , General."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can this turian refuse?" Garrus asked, his mandibles quivering in amusement.

"Garrus!"

Corinthus was momentarily surprised by the newcomer. "Vakarian—sir, I didn't see you arrive," the general apologized and saluted smartly.

"At ease, General," Garrus said, inclining his head.

"Shepard told me you'd be here, but I didn't think—"

"I'd make it?" Garrus inquired mildly, accepting Liara's brief hug enthusiastically. "What? And miss out on all the fun? Come now, Liara. This old battle junkie? I wouldn't miss this action for all the world." Liquid silver eyes with a hint of blue turned to stare at the Reaper Destroyer screeching in the far distance. "Besides, if we lose this moon, we lose Palaven. Since I'm the closest damn thing they have to an expert—well, I'm advising." He caught a glimpse of James watching them, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a show of discomfort.

"Ah, you must be Shepard's new pet marine," Garrus said, offering a hand to the frowning lieutenant. "Whatever did happen to Kaidan?"

A sudden, tense silence fell on the group. He turned to gaze questioningly at Liara who explained, "He's in Huerta Memorial Hospital right now, receiving treatment for his wounds."

"Oh." Garrus adjusted his grip on the M-92 Mantis sniper rifle he carried. "How is the LT?"

"We believe Major Alenko will recover eventually," Liara replied in an equally solemn tone.

Garrus scratched a cheek awkwardly. "Well," he began and cleared his throat. "General Corinthus filled me in while you were gone. I'll help once Palaven Command—"

"—has finally gotten their act together," Corinthus cheered. "They tell me the next primarch's General Adrien Victus."

"Victus?" Liara scrunched her forehead thoughtfully. The name sounded familiar. "He's crossed my desk before. On Taetrus, during the uprisings, his squad discovered a salarian spy ring about the same time the turian separatists did." Emboldened by Garrus's approving nod, Liara continued, "Rather than neutralize the ring, he fell back, even giving up valuable fortifications to the rebels. The rebels attacked the salarians, and when both groups were worn down, he and his squad moved in. Didn't lose a man."

"Yes, he has a reputation for playing loose with accepted strategy," Garrus supplemented. "Popular with his troops though. Gets results, which is more than I can say for the rest of the higher ups—no offense, General Corinthus."

"None taken."

"Actually, I was just fighting alongside him this morning."

"Well, he sounds like my kind of turian," James smirked. "When can we ship him back to the Normandy, Uncle Scar?"

"...Uncle Scar?" A perplexed Garrus inquired.

"Liara! Do you read me?"

Liara raised her hand, silencing her two companions. "Can this wait, Joker? We're in the middle of a war zone."

"We've got a situation on the Normandy, and I can't contact the Commander! Liara, it's like the Normandy's possessed or something, shutting down systems, powering up weapons—and I can't find the damn source."

The asari looked helplessly at her companions. What could she do? Go back to the Normandy and try to contain the problem until Shepard came back? She barely knew the SR-2's layout, let alone its internal systems! "Have you tried contacting EDI?"

"She's gone offline!"

"If I may, Liara," Shiala interrupted. "I do not know much about star ship technology, but I might be able to help."

"Alright, but until we get back, the Normandy is standing by. You got that, Joker?"

Joker sighed audibly from the other line. "Fine, I shall limit my forays into the extranet's more dubious websites."

"Joker," Liara growled threateningly.

"...See you later, Liara! Joker out!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the Normandy caught some extranet virus from one of Joker's 'dubious' activities," Liara muttered to herself.

"EDI would be appalled if she heard you now," Garrus replied brightly.

"Too bad she can't." Liara massaged her forehead. "You said you were with Victus this morning?"

"Yeah, but we got separated. He went to bolster a flank that was breaking. Could be anywhere out there."

"We're trying to raise him, Liara. We're hoping he could rendezvous with you here."

"Understood, General Corinthus."

A startled cry drew their collective attention to the main barricade. One of the last turian snipers from that wall had fallen to the ground—pulled down by a particularly obstinate husk that had managed to evade their gunfire. With an unspoken agreement, Liara, Garrus, and James ran towards the main barricade, climbing up the metal ladders and inspecting the bloodied land below, full of the husks' decaying corpses. "By the spirits," Garrus hissed, peering at his scope. "How do they expect us to last in a fight like this?"

"What else can you do?" James scowled at the dead below. "Until Shepard comes up with a sure-fire plan to rid us of the Reapers, we can only hold out like this."

"If the Reapers breach our main barricade, this area is done for," Corinthus interjected. "If you could keep their damn pets at bay until reinforcements arrive, I'd appreciate that."

"Do you even need to ask?" Garrus pointed at the mounted turret. "James, think you can use this thing?"

James gave the turian a bemused look. "Do you even need to ask?" He parroted sardonically.

Between Garrus and James, there were very few husks left for Liara to take down on her own. Garrus remained as efficient as ever, leaving headless husk after headless husk on the battlefield. James, for his part, enthusiastically pointed the turret at all the clumps of husks he could find, shouting triumphantly as he brought a seemingly endless barrage of gunfire at them. Exchanging her M-6 Carnifex for the M-12 Locust, a submachine gun with a lower recoil and a longer range of fire, she took down the few stragglers climbing up the jutting crags on either side.

The problem, she realized quickly, after watching husk after husk go down, was the bodies. There were just too many of them. If before, it would take a while for the husks to climb up the barricades, the mounds of the dead made it considerably easier for their trek upwards. Not only that, but the corpses were convenient cover for them as well—not because they were sturdy; rather, the decaying bodies of both the turians and the husks were making it harder for others to find them and shoot them down. _Could the Reapers reuse the dead?_ Liara wondered. A chilling thought, one that had to be addressed.

"General Corinthus," she called from her comm. link, "do you have any spare fuel that we might be able to use?"

"Certainly, Liara," Corinthus said a little belatedly, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. "What did you have in mind?"

"We need to burn all of these corpses, General. The Reapers might have some use for them again."

"That's a lot to burn, Liara," Corinthus observed quietly after climbing up the main barricade to stare at the dead below.

"Better to have them gone, then to have them rise again, General," Garrus replied. "I personally haven't seen it happen. But it _is_ likely. Considering these Reaper foot soldiers came from the dead originally..."

"I get what you mean," Corinthus conceded with a nod. "I'll send some men up to douse the bodies. Until then, I'm still radioing various outposts, looking for our new primarch."

They made short work of the battlefield, spraying as much of the fuel as they could across the sea of corpses, no more than shells for the Reapers to repurpose for their ruthless cause: the eradication of all advanced, sentient life. Watching the other soldiers at work, Liara visibly relaxed. As the Shadow Broker, she had the unquestioning loyalty of hundreds of agents across the galaxy, who used their wits and their resources to find the information she needed. As Shepard's unspoken second-in-command, however, she knew that she had more to prove before others would willingly take her lead. It was therefore startling really, how easily the others seemed to trust her judgement and her instructions. Still, she couldn't help but feel that if there was anyone who was worth following, it should have been Garrus, who had more combat experience than she did, despite her longer lifespan.

...And in a way, he _was_ the one leading this fight. He kept the husks off the barricades, giving James insightful advice and prompting Liara to send a well-placed singularity, if needed be.

But the decisions were hers to make. And sometimes, she had to take initiatives like this too. It was admittedly, a little daunting and a little exhilarating all at once.

Besides, if it meant getting to know another side of Shepard—understanding her thoughts, her motivations and her burdens a little better—it was all worth it.

Touching the lump near her collarbone, she tapped the short form of the words, "I love you," in Morse code. It would be a while before Shepard received the message, but it was the thought that counted. Wistfully, she wished she could convey her thoughts directly to Shepard. But that was a vain wish. Even if they were to fully open themselves to each other, the distance would still be too great. She tore herself away from her idle musings and nodded at Bartus. "Set it ablaze, Sergeant."

The turian grinned. "With pleasure, Ma'am." Flames blossomed from the hail of gunfire he left behind, sending the new batch of husks scattering to all four directions, screaming their collective death throes. Liara turned away, unable to watch the near-blinding blaze, a crude funeral pyre that would wipe out the existence of numerous soldiers who had given up their lives to protect their home-world, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

"Damn! What is that thing?" Liara heard James cry out. Before she could react, a violent force slammed against the main barricade, throwing her off-balance. As she plummeted towards the hungry flames below, she saw James, one foot over the railing, preparing to dive after her. "Liara, I got you!"

Liara closed her eyes, a chuckle escaping her lips. Why is it that, even heartbeats away from the unbearable heat, all she could think about was Shepard's confident form, extending a hand towards her, urging her to grab it?

_Oh, how far I've fallen._

* * *

**Omake time: In which a certain turian cultivates the local grapevine...**

Harsh, grey wisps of smoke curled upwards from a distant one-man fighter that had crash-landed against the jutting outcrop of unforgiving stone. The strident battle cries of Reaper Destroyers rung clearly across the barren wasteland, sending shivers down Garrus's spine. A faint wind brushed against his mandibles, bringing with it the rotting stench of the dead.

"Garrus, sir, you have a message in your private terminal," one of the new recruits said as he climbed up the tower overlooking the vast battlefield below. "I can take over for you."

"At ease, Private," he said serenely and slipped his sniper rifle on his back. "And thank you." He slid down the ladder with ease and ambled towards one of the enclosures, nodding at a group of passing soldiers who were watching the Reapers tensely. "Lights out," their general had told them earlier, but everyone was too wound up to get some decent shut eye. Garrus couldn't blame them. The sounds of the Reapers howling alone were enough to keep even the deafest man from falling asleep. It was truly _ground-shaking_.

He reached the private terminal—which was a bit of a misnomer considering anyone could use it—and turned it on, going into his account. "Garrus," the letter read simply, "I'm sending Liara and James over there to fetch the primarch. Keep an eye on them, will you? Sorry I couldn't come myself. Have to keep the quarians from doing something stupid. Love, Shep."

"Is that a love letter, Vakarian?" Victus asked, leaning on Garrus's right shoulder. "She's not a krogan is she?"

"It's a message from Commander Shepard, actually," Garrus replied casually, closing his email and turning around to grin at his general.

"So you're sweet on the commander, eh?" Another turian soldier asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Shepard?" Garrus snorted. "Puh-lease, if I so much as flirt with our commander, Liara would have me flying straight back to Palaven with a biotically charged lift. This poor turian isn't built for flight, General."

"Liara?"

"One of the finest asaris I have ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside with," Garrus confirmed. "Of course, she didn't always start out that way. But she did have good teachers." The pride in his voice told Victus that Garrus had been one of them.

"What was the letter about?" One of Victus's subordinates asked.

"Apparently, Liara and James, Shepard's new pet marine, are coming over to our moon to fetch the primarch."

"What good would that do is beyond me," one of the soldiers growled. "Playing diplomats at a time like this? By the spirits, we're at war! We should be out there giving the Reapers all that we've got. We don't have time to make nice and hope that a miracle happens."

"What? And miss the opportunity of getting the other races to help us? If anything, now is the time to 'make nice', as you call it," Victus said mildly. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind having a krogan or two with me right now, watching my six."

"Peculiar words coming from a turian general," Garrus observed.

"Not so peculiar when you're faced with a monstrous threat like them," Victus replied coolly, nodding at the Reapers surrounding Palaven. "Anyway, what's the commander like?"

"In bed?" Garrus chuckled. "Now you're just mocking me, General."

"I mean, in a fight," the general retorted, struggling to maintain his poker expression.

Garrus paused and considered Victus's request, eyeing the growing crowd of turian soldiers off-duty. Perhaps hearing a tale or two about the commander would put them at ease. Or at least win them over to Shepard's side. Rubbing his cheek thoughtfully, he began in an amused tone, "Well, there was that one time Shepard drove a taxicab..."


	4. Quickdive

**Chapter Three - Quickdive**

_Liara had put off returning to the Normandy for so long. If not for her beloved's insistence, she would have avoided the subject of returning altogether, guilt keeping her at an arm's length from the rest of the Normandy's crew._

_Two years._

_Two years she had gone into hiding, building an information network from scratch, with only her wits, her brief combat training, the credits Shepard had left behind for her, and a cool, calculated ruthlessness that she didn't think she possessed, keeping her from drowning in this previously unexplored, underground reservoir of knowledge, open only to those who were willing to shed their innocence—and willing to shed the blood of others._

_She remembered reading stories of Garrus's various endeavours, having found a dossier of Archangel in the Shadow Broker's lair. She also remembered receiving messages from the former C-sec officer, dispelling some of the more incredulous stories the broker's agents had on him. In retrospect, she was much like him in a way, an angel of death, leaving a trail of the dead wherever she went. Unlike Archangel, however, she had no such illusions of ridding the world of unsavoury characters. Anyone who stood in her way was removed. It was as simple as that._

_...How could Shepard continue to love her, with so much blood in her hands?_

_She even found herself reprehensible for crying out loud! Swindling people, manipulating them into doing favours for her, threatening their loved ones, twisting arms, breaking arms, even seducing a woman or two for her ends—a slew of wrongdoings that weighed heavily against her soul, a dark stain against the once-clear glass heart encased within her: that very same glass heart that Shepard had shattered into a thousand tiny fragments, first by denying her in Ilos, second, by dying on her just two years before._

_And yet here she was, drawn to Shepard, like a moth to a bright flame._

_"Let's take it slow," the commander had practically begged after finally confessing to her, to Liara, to the Shadow Broker, who did not know the meaning of compromise, who was still so madly in love with her, who lusted after her worse than a dog in heat, who could easily destroy those who denied and scorned her. "Let's take it slow," Shepard had asked, and Liara had complied, reining in her overwhelming desire and shutting it firmly in a cage._

_For Shepard, anything._

_Nodding her thanks to Garrus, who had been more than happy to drag her along the ship's various areas, introducing her to all of Shepard's people, she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to bring her to the captain's cabin._

_Apprehension instantly settled on her like a second skin, replacing the disgust she had formerly felt. Would the commander be happy to see her? Well, of course she would be; already, Liara could feel the faint glow of Shepard's affection for her, even floors away. But what would she do once she was in her beloved's presence? Would they talk about New Ilos once more? The commander was becoming increasingly invested in her projects with her growing team aboard the dreadnought, now that the Collector Base had been destroyed. Perhaps the commander wished to show her something that she could not show Liara in Hagalaz. Certainly that seemed plausible._

_Setting aside her heavy heart, she took a deep breath and allowed a smile to grace her features as she entered the commander's living quarters._

" _Did you enjoy the tour, Liara?"_

_For once, Liara found herself incapable of answering._

_"Did you not like the ship?" Shepard fretted, putting down the glass of wine she had been nursing for half an hour. "Did Joker mention anything about Vaenia? Because if he did, I am going to hack into his private terminal, and-and replace his porn stash with some male batarian slash!"_

" _Vaenia? You mean that asari-human porn video...?" Liara asked after finally recovering from her initial shock. "How did you—?"_

_Shepard looked away and shifted uncomfortably, one hand pressing against her chest in an attempt to hide her somewhat revealing bosom. "I ah, I took the liberty of doing some research," she mumbled embarrassedly._

_It was then that Liara became keenly aware of their immediate surroundings. On the table were two glasses of wine, barely touched, the electronics that had probably populated it now cluttering Shepard's desk. A soft, melancholy melody played in the background, the slow drum beats like a pulsating heart._

_And Shepard. By the Goddess, Liara didn't think she even had something so_ tantalizing _in her wardrobe. The woman wore a cocktail dress that hugged her curves and showed her well-muscled arms quite well. The wide-collared neckline emphasized her slender neck and her strong jaw line, stirring the pent-up desire that Liara had tried to ignore for so long._

_She met Shepard's shy, fearful gaze with her own wide, disbelieving one. Dazed, she found that she could no longer distinguish her emotions from Shepard's, confusion fogging her thoughts, the convoluted feelings she and Shepard had spilling into each other, tides of emotions swelling and joining together, curling against each other affectionately and twisting into untidy knots. Her fear was Shepard's fear. Her apprehension was Shepard's apprehension. Her love was Shepard's love. Shortening the distance between them, she pulled Shepard in a fiery kiss, pressing her commander against the first surface that she could find—which just so happened to be Shepard's bed—until even their bodies were no longer distinct to her._

_It was ironic how easily her restraints, which she had painstakingly rebuilt from the ruined altar that caged her heart, were swept away by the tide of Shepard's desire_ _—or was it hers? She could no longer tell. Only the sudden flash of panic jolted her out of her voracious exploration of Shepard's body, blowing away the fog of senselessness that pervaded her muddled mind._

_Fear mirroring fear, Liara asked in a husky half-whisper, "Should I stop?" Unexpectedly, she felt the need to deliver an apology tinged with regret. But why should she apologize? Was it because she was being so forward with her lust for Shepard? And the regret? What could she possibly regret?_

_Shepard's lips mapped the contour of her jaw with chaste, burning kisses, even as her hands insistently tugged at Liara's armour, uncertain of how to undress her. "I'm sorry," Shepard spoke earnestly in between kisses. "I'm sorry I could not give you what you wanted sooner."_

_Remembering the momentary panic Liara had experienced earlier, she reluctantly drew away from Shepard's light touches. "If you are not ready, this can wait." Liara gulped down the feeling of disappointment and insisted, "I can wait."_

_Shepard's fierce, loving gaze stole her breath, clogging her throat with fierce emotions of her own. "I want this too."_

_"Then what troubles you, my love?" Liara croaked, and felt her beloved's fingers brushing away the tears that slid across cheeks the colour of lapis lazuli._

_"I'm scared," Shepard admitted. "I'm scared that I cannot please you—that I am an insufficient lover. That however much I prepare, it all amounts to nothing because I have no experience in romance, and I only wish to experience you."_

_"Such valiant words," Liara laughed. "Do you really think that I am that superficial?" She examined her beloved's exceedingly miserable expression and sensed that there was something more veiled underneath Shepard's confession. "Do you trust me?"_

_Eyes shining with adoration looked up and brought with it a fresh wave of desire. "Always."_

_Dipping her head to taste Shepard's lips once more, Liara reached for the fleeting sorrow that Shepard tried in vain to dismiss, caressing it gently with her own single-minded devotion for the commander, burning away every hidden hurt, every subtle fear, and every aching insecurity with the fire of her passion. "Then let me show you eternity."_

* * *

Shit, shit, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. Shepard had given him a job to do, and he wasn't about to fuck that up just 'cause he'd been too busy crowing like a greenhorn who'd just shot his first buck. Without thinking, he jumped off the barricade, grabbing Liara and activating the Foucault currents to protect his armour from the intense heat below. It was too bad, actually; he hadn't listened to Shepard's advice about wearing his helmet to Menae. If he had, perhaps his barrier fortifications could protect his head from the flames too.

"You idiot," a silky voice whispered in James's ear, startling him. He pulled away and looked at Liara incredulously, only just realizing that the Foucault currents bathing his body in a golden glow also had a blue sheen over them.

They landed gently on the mound of burning flesh, several metres away from the enraged brute howling in pain at the onslaught of bullets it was receiving from the mounted turret. James pulled away from their awkward embrace and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, Blue."

The doctor gave a nonchalant hum and concentrated on the brute now charging towards them. She clenched her fist and threw a biotic sphere at it before pulling James behind a rocky outcrop, the biotic field that kept the flames at bay following them as they moved away from the brute. Recovering from his initial shock, James grabbed a hand grenade from his belt and threw it at the brute before ducking for cover. "You alright, James?" Garrus asked from their shared comm. link.

"Aside from my injured pride, I think I'll live," James growled sardonically and grinned as he heard the death throes of the brute from another warp Liara had used. "Hey, Blue, think it's about time we kill these flames? I don't know about you, but I'm sticky with sweat here, and I just might be tempted to assault you with visions of my bare chest if we keep these flames up any longer."

"A most unpleasant image, I'm sure," Liara said dryly. The radius of her biotic field expanded, covering the entirety of the battlefield and snuffing out the roaring fires that had completely devoured the corpses of their enemies and allies both. To Corinthus, she asked, "Have you found the primarch yet?"

"Our tower might be operational, but I can't say the same for the other outposts," Corinthus answered wearily. "It appears that you'll have to go look on foot if you wish to find our new primarch. Otherwise, we'll be waiting here for a while until my men can get the other towers working again."

"Understood, General," Liara replied, equally tired. "Come, Garrus, James, let's find us a primarch."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

With Garrus taking the lead and James taking up the rear, they moved through the snaking path towards the next closest outpost, the jeering cries of the Reapers punctuating their shared silence. James, for his part, watched the scenery cautiously, masking his embarrassment with paranoia. As an Alliance soldier, he had very little experience fighting alongside other species. How was he supposed to know that Liara could take care of herself? He wasn't aware that natural biotic users could float to the ground, nor was he aware that they could create a shield powerful enough to stop the flames from reaching them. He was a marine, damn it, and marines don't just turn the other way when one of their teammates was in trouble!

Images of Fehl came rushing back to him, making him cringe inwardly. He was a soldier, not a damn leader for crying out loud! Making a choice between the intel and the people he was tasked to protect? Shouldn't have been his to make in the first place. He joined the Alliance to save people—to do some good—not so that he had to make the hard decisions.

 _Is that why you'd rather stay with Shepard and her crew than go back to Earth? Because around them, you're just another soldier? Because you don't want to be held accountable for your actions? What are you_ _—a twelve-year old brat who wants his own life but doesn't want to take responsibility for it?_

He was almost glad when a handful of husks appeared, climbing upwards from a nearby cliff. Unfortunately for James, they were not much of a distraction with his M-96 Mattock tearing them apart before they could even take a few steps away from the cliff. "How are you getting supplies to Menae?" James asked curiously, after taking account of his thermal clips which would soon run out due to his Mattock's lower reserve capacity.

"Interestingly enough, the Reapers are targeting civilian sectors over industrial ones," Garrus answered amiably, "so most of our colonies that are now supplying weapons and ships haven't tasted the brunt of a Reaper attack yet. I've heard reports that some have experienced fighting against husks, not just the foot soldiers that we've been encountering, but other mutations of them as well, but they haven't had much success in disrupting our rate of production."

"A foolish strategy," James noted.

"Or a very smart one," Liara countered. "Attacking the civilian areas can be very demoralizing, particularly when the Reapers don't appear to be faltering with their attacks. What is the point of producing more when your population is dwindling? They might be trying to dissuade the people from struggling by showing them how hopeless the entire situation is."

"'Submit to your fate,' huh?" Garrus sighed. "Sounds like the Reapers alright. I'd call them arrogant, except..."

"Except the odds are in their favour," James supplied. "We're not going to win this war, are we?"

"Not if you keep thinking like that, Mr. Vega," Liara teased.

"I believe in Shepard," Garrus reinforced, his words like a mantra to James. "She'll find us a way."

" _Santa Madre_ ," James murmured, "I hope you're right."

They didn't encounter any more of those damnable husks after reaching a crash site with two turians loitering nearby. Not that James cared. He was running out of ammo for his Mattock, and his Raider wouldn't hold out for long if they get swarmed. Besides, the husk infantry—or Reaper fodder as he preferred to call them—were not much of a challenge. It was just their numbers that could be considered a problem, particularly to an ill-trained unit. _Although these ones look like they fought with something bigger than a scrawny husk,_ James thought as he examined the two turians still standing. Had they survived the crash-landing of the fighter ship nearby? Or were they just there to check for survivors? James wondered.

"Have you seen General Victus?" Garrus asked, crouching besides the unconscious turian, scanning the body with his omni-tool.

"Half hour ago, heading south," one of them replied with a salute.

"Will you be alright here?" Liara inquired, holstering her gun and taking a look at the stunned turian as well.

"We'll be fine," his companion promised. "We're just doing a sweep of the area per Victus's orders. We need all the resources we can get, be it med supplies, thermal clips, or survivors."

"A sound idea," Garrus agreed. "Well, it looks like our friend will survive. I'd say head back to General Corinthus's camp. It's much safer there and they need all the reinforcements they can get. You'll be welcomed warmly."

"Thank you, sir." They began methodically stripping away their comrade's armour to easily mobilize him back to their camp. It was strange for James to see a turian without his battle armour, strange to see the seemingly fragile limbs underneath, despite the carapaces jutting out, surrounding the chest and the back. He consciously turned away, feeling like an intruder who was not supposed to be privy to such a casual display of vulnerability.

They moved through another, somewhat straightforward path towards the outpost, and almost ran into a one-man fighter that crashed just a few metres away. "That's a little closer than I'd like," Garrus shouted, stumbling into Liara.

"I'll say," James agreed, watching the smoke billowing from the fighter plane. "Crash like that, death would've been instantaneous."

"Oh Goddess," Liara breathed unhappily. "I wish there was something we could do to help."

"We move on," Garrus spoke grimly. "We find the primarch. Hopefully, we find a way to end this war too."

"Spoken like a true optimist," James remarked.

Garrus laughed. "No, kid, you just haven't seen what Shepard is capable of doing."

"Oh? Because I don't see the krogans or the batarians joining the summit," James countered. "I don't know about you, but they're tough sons of bitches, and I'd like to have a few fighting on our side when the time comes."

"The batarians aren't exactly too happy after what Shepard did to their home planet. I hear some are still crying for her execution—even though she's probably the best thing that we have as a leader right now. Besides, with most of the hegemony gone, their people are scrambling to fill the sudden power vacuum. Unless they can get their balls together, I doubt they'll be of much use to us."

"The krogans, on the other hand, have yet to forgive the turians and the salarians for giving them the genophage."

"The salarians designed it." Garrus argued defensively.

"Your people helped disperse it though," Liara reminded him. "Still, James has a point. If this summit must work, we will need more than the asari, the turians, the humans and the salarians to fight against the Reapers."

"Makes you think having a Council is actually kind of counterproductive," James quipped, inwardly pleased that Liara had agreed with him. "I mean, the Council is supposed to represent everyone in Council space, but it seems to me like it only represents the entitled."

"Of which humanity is a part of," Garrus added.

"Really?" James laughed. "Because it doesn't feel that way to me. We're like an unhappy afterthought in your grand Council. You claim that we have a place in it, but it doesn't mean we _belong_."

"They did deflect Councillor Udina and Shepard's request for aid." Liara acknowledged.

"What really bothers me though isn't that. I mean, for all that the Council represents unity between all of the different species under its jurisdiction, it seems to me that the only thing that they're really unified about is making sure that we don't cooperate with each other. It's like they're afraid that having a more centralized power is going to"—James waved his hands helplessly—"break their power or sommat."

"You mean they're afraid that if they all agree to follow Shepard, they'll have to defer to her judgement," Garrus clarified, "thus losing whatever power they held as leaders of the Council."

"Yeah, what you said. But in prettier words." James pouted. Shaking his head, he let out a doleful sigh and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I just think that, as things are, we can't really rely on the Council to solve this-this Reaper problem. They're too divided, too involved in their own self-interests, and too used to the power dynamics to realize that without a central leader to follow, they're not going to get anywhere. As we are, we're not fighting to save the galaxy. We're just fighting to save our own damn hides."

"Well said," Garrus cheered, slapping James's back lightheartedly. "Have you ever considered going into media, Vega? I bet you'd make a great public speaker."

"Maybe we should get Allers to interview you sometime," Liara teased.

"Oh _hell_ no. I wouldn't touch that woman with a fifty-foot pole!" James looked bewildered. "No offense, but she kind of freaks me out. It's-it's that outfit! Have you seen the way it just clings to her—! And, and the way the-the—!" He let out a frustrated growl. "Look, I'm just sayin' that she's not wearing proper military regs, and her tits are showing. _Dios mios_ I just said the damn word, didn't I?"

Their laughter at James's expense was cut short by the sound of heavy fire coming from around the bend. "Double time, people," Garrus roared, charging on ahead with Liara and James trailing silently from behind. They entered through the broken-down barricade and found cover after almost running into a barrage of bullets from the enemy.

James, who caught a glimpse of these new husks that were actually _shooting_ at them this time, yelped as a bullet grazed his cheek. "What the hell are those things?"

"They look like turians," Liara said worriedly.

"And the other ones look like even uglier versions of the batarians," James said, squinting through the haze of gun-smoke and rubble flying everywhere. "I guess that's what they're doing to our bodies once they're done with us." He spat on the ground in disdain and climbed up from his cover, rushing towards the next available one he could find to get a better shot at them with his AT-12 Raider. He felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle and saw Garrus sending power surges at the turian lookalikes, stunning them briefly.

"James, Garrus," Liara called, sounding slightly worried.

"What's wrong, Blue?"

"Three more of t-those brutes," the asari stammered, pointing towards three towering monsters lumbering in the distance.

James heard Garrus curse and saw him scramble towards them. "They'll be a bitch to kill inside this cramped compound. We need to draw them out and deal with them if we want to minimize casualties."

"Easier said than done."

"James, how many frag grenades do you have?" Garrus asked.

"Three, although I could find more if need be," James answered, detaching the three grenades from his belt.

"See those jutting spines from their backs?" The two nodded. "If we could lodge a grenade within the curve of their backs, it might weaken their armour and draw their attention to us."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then find a way to get its damn attention." Garrus turned to peer through his sniper rifle to examine the brute a second time. "If we sever the head from its body, we might be able to kill it— _might_ considering at this point, we don't know if their heads are a tactical weakness."

"Maybe if they start screaming 'brains', that'll be a good indicator," James muttered.

"What?"

"A human joke."

"Right," Garrus drawled ironically. He took the other two grenades from James and handed one to Liara. "Distract them and get them away from Victus's men. If we can get them out of the compound, even better."

"And how do you plan to kill them? Douse them with gasoline and set them on fire? Because the last time we did that on one of them bastards, it took a while to take them down. That, and I'd rather not feel unnecessarily alarmed at the possibility of burning to death or accruing a number of ugly scars on my rugged visage. We already have one heavily scarred character in this epic space opera. I wouldn't want to play second fiddle to you."

"You really are exceedingly vain," Liara observed.

"Well, as much as I would love to continue this witty banter," Garrus interrupted, "those brutes aren't going to just sit down and join our bloody tea party and exchange verbal ripostes with us any time soon."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the feeling they're a lot more refined than that," James added mockingly. He nodded at the two of them and shot down three irritating turian-husks that had been gunning at them for a while now. "Don't wish me luck. I'd hate to have to tell you that I don't need it and waste your breath on good intentions."

"Is he always like this?" Garrus asked exasperatedly.

"Oh he can be much worse, I assure you." Liara replied, smiling at her old friend. "He had the gall to flirt with Shepard while I was around."

"Ah," was all Garrus had to say to that last comment. Shaking his head wryly, he slipped his sniper rifle back into its magnetized holster at his back so that he could move more freely. Turning on his omni-tool, he thanked the spirits that he had the forethought to ask Mordin for some upgrades, allowing him the ability to generate a flaming projectile, aptly called, 'incinerate.exe'. Scrambling closer to one of the brutes, he yelled, "Hey, you mountain of ugly, have a mouthful of this!" Two discs shot out of his omni-tool, exploding into a burst of flame as they hit their intended target. The brute howled angrily and turned its attention towards him, its hind legs tensing as it moved into a charging position. Garrus stumbled backwards, fumbling with the grenade he was about to throw at the brute, and slammed into a turian-husk aiming for him. Switching his omni-tool's function to produce a sharp blade, he twisted his torso and grabbed the turian-husk's shoulder with his free hand, slamming the blade straight into the turian-husk's throat. He pushed the dead husk away and jumped ungracefully to the side, rolling against some crates as the brute ran past him. Feeling something digging against his shoulder, he pushed himself to his feet and picked up the strange-looking device leaning against the crate.

_What the heck is this?_

"Fuck! Let go of me," Garrus heard James growl from afar. He saw the two other brutes advancing towards James with Liara trying to get the third brute to let go of their cocky marine. "You think I'm scared of you, you motherfucking zombie tank?" James managed to free one of his arms and turned on his omni-tool. He twitched his fingers to activate one of his omni-tool's functions and moved his forearm so that it was facing the brute's face. "Say cheese!" A blinding flash finally convinced the brute to let James go and crash into one of its allies. Seeing their chance, Liara and James threw their frag grenades at their intended targets, before moving towards the other direction, looking for cover as Garrus's plan continued to fall apart. Belatedly, the scarred turian remembered the grenade he was carrying and sighed. Right, he had forgotten to throw that in his haste to dodge the brute's attack. His eyes fell on the strange-looking weapon again. From its similarity to a Reaper leg, it was most likely a Reaper weapon. Should he use it?

"Garrus, we can't draw it out of the compound," James growled through the comm. link. "We've managed to get it as far as we could from the other soldiers, but the barricade isn't big enough for these damn fuckers to squeeze through."

"Having them destroy the barricade to get to us isn't a viable option either. It's quite likely that they'll grow disinterested and look for other prey if we try."

"Noted," Garrus spoke, eyeing the three lumbering freaks of nature. "Now, will you two do me a favour and find some cover? Preferably, far away from those brutes?"

He adjusted the magnification of his eye visor and raised the Reaper weapon, pointing it in the middle of the three brutes. "Here's hoping it works," he muttered to himself and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

_I am bone-weary._ Liara thought as she exited the Kodiak, storing her weapons back in her locker before heading for the elevator with Garrus and Primarch Victus. _Oh Goddess, what I would give to go back to my room, change into some fresh clothes—maybe borrow Shepard's ridiculously comfortable N7 sweatshirt—and slip into darkness's sweet embrace until the next time Shepard needs me for a mission._

But that was unlikely to happen. She was the ship's XO now and that meant more responsibilities—like keeping the Council informed of their various activities in the absence of the Commander. _Why did I sign up for this again?_ Shepard appeared unbidden in her mind. _Right,_ Liara thought smiling slightly, _the benefits._

"We need to keep a thorough documentation of how to deal with those Reapers and their ground forces. We cannot continue to fight them with conventional methods and hope to win. If this war summit is to be successful, we need to establish communication lines with the other species and share information. Otherwise, we might face enemies that we are completely unprepared for."

"Understood, sir."

"Specifically, I'd like you to include information concerning that Reaper weapon you found and its devastating effects within a five-metre blast radius. If more of their foot soldiers are carrying those damnable things, then our people will have to find a way to take those from them. Not only would that be advantageous for us—as you've managed to prove by killing those brutes earlier—but doing so can also prevent the loss of more lives."

"If I may," Liara interrupted. "I believe my agents will be quite reliable in dispersing the information. As you know, our communication buoys are not always reliable, especially with the Reapers destroying whatever is in their path. Agents that are often on the move, however, are more likely to be able to bring key information to other areas."

"An interesting offer, Shadow Broker," Garrus stated lightly. "However did you become so competent?"

"Only if you'll tell me how you managed to acquire those compromising images of the Normandy's previous tenants?" Liara quipped in that same innocent tone. "With your visor perhaps?"

"Touché."

Victus coughed politely. "I would appreciate it if you can do just that, Liara."

"Liara, you are not going to believe what just happened." Joker spoke excitedly from the intercom. "Can you spare a few minutes and come up here? Oh, and you have a call from Councillor Tevos, but I put her on hold and let her listen to Pachelbel's Canon in an infinite loop while waiting for you."

"Pachelbel's Canon?" Victus inquired dryly.

"Another human joke, Primarch," Garrus reassured him. "Or well, I _think_ it's a joke. You can never tell with our pilot sometimes."

"Well I for one hope it is," Liara muttered after briefly reacquainting her palm with her forehead. "The asari Councillor is as humourless as I am blue."

"That's a really deep hue of humourless then."

Liara simply gave him an unimpressed look before leaving them behind to visit Joker in the ship's helm. From the relaxed stances of the crew nearby, it seemed as if the Normandy's systems were back to normal. Had Shiala managed to solve the problem then? Certainly it was plausible, though admittedly, Liara hadn't pegged Shiala as the type who could fix problems pertaining to starship machinery and its various complexities. _Not that I know much about her to begin with_ , Liara thought, a sudden ache in her chest. _Or any of Mother's other followers._

When she entered the bridge, her initial impulse was to reach for the M-6 Carnifex that was not currently attached to her waist. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"I'm not sure," EDI answered from the co-pilot seat. "Besides Joker's bitter self-deprecating one-liners and his tendency to provide me with unhelpfully insincere statements that tend to mean the opposite of what he is actually stating, I have had very little experience in verbal repartees, I'm afraid."

"You are in Dr. Eva Coré's body," Liara stated.

"You can say that I am currently in control of it, yes," EDI replied. Liara wondered if there was a hint of smugness in her tone or if she just naturally spoke like that.

"And how did you manage to do just that?"

"I was scanning the body for whatever extraneous information I could find on Cerberus. In doing so, I had triggered a trap, activating the backup power source and CPU which then caused this unit to attempt a physical confrontation with my core. Suffice to say, it was unsuccessful."

"She managed to gain root access to it and repurposed the body to suit her needs," Joker clarified, "which is pretty cool, if you were ever to ask for my humble opinion."

"Did you help her?"

"Me?" Joker huffed. "If I was helping her, you'd be the first to know! Heck, I'd bake a cake and risk venturing into Chakwas's territory just to congratulate her!"

"Why didn't you ask the crew for help, anyway?"

"You were busy leading the ground team to rescue the Primarch," EDI explained, "and your people would have been limited by organic reaction time; thus I decided that this was the best course of action. Was I wrong?"

Liara sighed. "I just keep thinking, 'what would Shepard do in this situation?'"

"She'd probably start by rambling on about the advantages and disadvantages of 'organic' help," Joker said cheerfully, "after which she'd want to run tests on EDI's body, put upgrades on it, and briefly entertain the idea of building EDI a backup unit."

"Likely," Liara agreed. "Well, I don't really know what to say, EDI."

"How about letting her come with you on one of your missions, Liara?"

Their XO resisted the urge to sigh again. "I don't know. I have very limited knowledge of mechs and I'd prefer it if we wait for Shepard to return before we consider what EDI can do with her new body."

"Understood."

Liara gave them a curt nod and exited the helm. Just outside, near the airlock, she found Shiala leaning against the wall, a disinterested look on her viridian face. The matron straightened and bowed her head slightly in a show of respect. "You've returned."

"So I have." Liara massaged her forehead and beckoned for Shiala to follow her. "I take it, you were the first to see EDI in her new body?"

"I went to the AI core, just as your pilot suggested, and took the proffered gun one of your crew had given me in case we had to fight the rogue Cerberus agent again." Shiala clasped her hands behind her back and trailed obediently, a step behind Liara. "I am just glad that I did not have to fight anyone. My skills in the art of combat are rusty and my biotics are still unwieldy at best."

Liara gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "And what are your impressions on EDI?"

"I heard that she was crucial in fighting off the Collectors who tried to commandeer your commander's ship. But you can never tell with artificial intelligence. The geth, after all, initially sided with Saren two years ago, and there are reports that some geth have been seen fighting organics again in certain areas in Terminus space, even after your commander tried to rewrite the ones that you call 'heretics'. Clearly, she is just as morally ambiguous as others of our race are. I will reserve my opinion on her until I know her better."

They entered the War room and went past the new turian primarch to the comm. area where Councillor Tevos awaited.

"Dr. T'soni?" The asari councillor seemed genuinely surprised. "I—Shepard isn't here, is she?"

"She's in Rannoch, ensuring galactic stability. I believe it is one of her duties as a Council Spectre?"

"W-well, the Terminus systems are not part of our jurisdiction," Councillor Tevos countered.

"That hasn't stopped you from meddling before," Liara replied, keeping an impassive front. "Please, Councillor, denying would only further lengthen this conversation. You have your duties, and I have mine as the Shadow Broker."

"You have been spying on us!"

"I would not be doing my duty correctly if I did not familiarize myself with the previous Shadow Broker's various data logs and information on high-profile individuals." Liara regarded the councillor's hologram coolly. "If it pleases you, Councillor, perhaps we may revisit this topic another time? I'm sure Councillor Sparatus will be overjoyed to hear that we have secured the primarch."

"That is good to know," Councillor Tevos replied, her expression equally frosty. "How is Primarch Fedorian?"

"Unfortunately, Primarch Fedorian is dead. Primarch Victus will, instead, lead the war summit."

"I see."

"Also, you might like to know that Primarch Victus wishes to include the krogan in the summit."

"That is preposterous!" Councillor Tevos cried. "Does he think we will gain anything by asking the krogan to join us?"

"It is worth trying at least, don't you think, Councillor?"

"As _you_ know, Dr. T'soni, the asari have been on this path before with horrible results. I'm afraid it is madness to try and get those three species to fight together!"

"Commander Shepard—"

"Your bondmate is a capable woman, Doctor, but even _she_ isn't capable of miracles." Councillor Tevos crossed her arms. "If the primarch insists that the krogan join your summit, then I am afraid that the asari will not be sending a representative."

"If I may speak freely, Councillor?" Liara did not pause to wait for a reply. "I just came back from a battlefield and I have just witnessed the deaths of many turian soldiers fighting to keep the Reapers at bay so that for another day, Palaven continues to stand, continues to be a beacon of hope for these turian warriors. Now, this number is infinitesimal against the Reapers' vast genocide of our civilization. For every second you waste your breath on me, millions of lives out there are crushed under the cruel weight of those damnable creatures and their uncompromising demands. Do you really think that the asari have a chance at winning this war on their own? Have the pompous pretenses of our species' superiority blinded you to the reality that this war cannot be won unless we discard our bloated prides and ask each other for help?

"Tell me, what is the purpose of the Council when it cannot even acknowledge the fact that in order for there _to be_ galactic peace and stability, the galaxy must rise as one against this abominable threat? What is the purpose of the Council when its leaders are too busy arguing over which of its territories should be saved as a thinly veiled attempt to postpone the inevitable confrontation with the fact that the Reapers are _here_ , our galaxy needs a saviour, and not one of you are up to the task?" Liara narrowed her eyes. "Your actions of late have disgusted me. Your inability to see what is clearly before you, even more so. If you do not wish to provide help, then so be it. I will seek help elsewhere."

The hologram sputtered and winked out before the asari councillor could think of an appropriate response. Liara, who had spent most of her energy being increasingly angry at the councillor, braced her hands against the control panel. "By the _Goddess_."

"Are you alright, Liara?" Shiala asked, putting an arm around the younger asari's shoulders.

"I feel like I should be very guilty right now for unsuccessfully winning over the support of the Asari Republic," Liara murmured and took a deep breath. "But instead, I feel fine—happy even."

"I think chewing out your elders is a great stress-reliever for you."

"Still, I shouldn't have done that."

"Do you think the councillor would have seen reason and decided to help your cause later on?"

"Only if by some random happenstance, Shepard manages to save those three idiots a second time." Liara tilted her head to smile wryly at Shiala. "Perhaps I should enlist some of our agents to kidnap the councillors and have Shepard save the day, thus giving them a reason to finally follow her. I hear an attempt on one's life usually compels an individual into action."

Shiala chuckled and shook her head. "Isn't that a little too convenient? I highly doubt the Council would fall at your commander's feet and willingly aid her after such an attempt on their lives."

"Wishful thinking I suppose," Liara admitted. "If there was some way I could get the asari to help—ah, but I suppose it is too late."

"If I may put forth a suggestion?" At Liara's nod, Shiala continued, "Watching you talk to the councillor stirred old memories in me. It was as if the matriarch was standing beside you, guiding you, telling you what to say—an old matron's folly, I know. Matriarch Benezia is dead, and you are your own person. But you do have her charisma, and perhaps you can use that charisma to win over some of her former followers, particularly those who hold key positions in our government. It is not much, but at least it's a start."

"That is a tempting suggestion," Liara said weakly, stunned by the other asari's words. "Do you really think I can convince them?"

Shiala squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You are capable of many things, Liara." She paused and turned her gaze away, her eyes distant as she witnessed an old memory. "And you have something that Matriarch Benezia did not have when she chose to stop Saren."

"I do?"

"A bond so strong that it must have been inscribed in the stars by the goddess Athame herself." Shiala smiled sadly at her companion. "A bond that will give you purpose and keep you from straying from your path. If the matriarch had made one mistake it was that she distanced herself from the one person who could have kept her from succumbing to the darkness: you."

* * *

**OMAKE: In which our favourite turian wishes to know more about a certain human joke...**

\-- **SpaceBatman** began pestering **JShepard** \--

 **SpaceBatman:** What's up, Shep? Are you busy?

 **SpaceBatman:** Shep? Are you there?

 **SpaceBatman:** Oh well, I guess you're too busy talking to your scientists or saving some part of the galaxy again. I get it. Hero business. Been there, done that.

 **SpaceBatman:** So...I have a question. What does it mean when a husk starts screaming 'brains' at you? James said it was a human joke. I was just wondering, you know? Maybe you can tell me sometime? When you're not extremely busy?

 **JShepard:** Sorry. Didn't see your comment there.

 **JShepard:** ...Was busy doing calibrations.

 **SpaceBatman:** ...Not funny.

 **JShepard:** :P

 **JShepard:** I hope this answers your question.

\-- **JShepard** sent **SpaceBatman** shaunofthedead.wmv --

 **SpaceBatman:** Really, Shepard? Really? Can't you find one with a better file format at least?

 **JShepard:** Sorry. Still kind of busy. Talk to you later?

 **SpaceBatman:** Alright, alright. I suppose I have my own calibrations to do.

 **SpaceBatman:** ;)

\-- **SpaceBatman** ceased pestering **JShepard** \--


	5. A History of Grievances

**Chapter Four – A History of Grievances  
**

_Various messages flashed on Shepard's private terminal, but they were ignored for the moment as Shepard continued to polish her modified N7 gauntlets, her eyes unfocused. Hearing the whirr of the door to her room open brought her back from her discordant thoughts. She turned her gaze towards her visitor and inclined her head, motioning for Garrus to enter._

_"Hey, Shep," the turian greeted her and took a seat on the L-shaped couch where Shepard was cleaning her gear."I'm not interrupting anything am I?"_

_"I'm just," Shepard hesitated and glanced at the gauntlets she was holding. "I'm preparing for my return to Earth; nothing so taxing I assure you. Doctor's orders," she said in a self-deprecating tone._

_"Planning to take an army down with you?" Garrus teased. "Because I'm all for it if it means getting your Alliance to listen to you for once."_

_Shepard shook her head. "Nothing so drastic, Garrus. I'm," she frowned at her equipment. "Maybe I should just wear something less threatening."_

_Garrus followed her gaze and nodded, "Good idea. You've always been an impressive figure in that armour, despite your height."_

_She snorted. "And what brings you here?"_

_"Can't two old friends just chat for a while?"_

_"I don't know, Garrus. Whenever I try to have a nice, little chat with you, you're usually too busy with your calibrations."_

_"Is that a hint of bitterness I hear?" Garrus pressed his hand against his chest dramatically. "And here I might have missed my chance to have the great Commander Shepard admit her undying love to me! All because I was too busy calibrating. Well, I'm all ears now."_

_Both eyebrows were raised in apparent displeasure._

_"I_ am _interrupting something, aren't I?"_

_Shepard grimaced and looked away. "You're not interrupting anything, Garrus."_

_"I may not be good at reading human faces, but I can still tell you're a bad liar."_

_"Are you here to play psychologist on me?"_

_"I'm here as your friend." Garrus said firmly. "You've saved the galaxy from another potential invasion, Shep. You've given us more time than we can ever hope to acquire. You destroyed the Collector's base and stopped the abduction of countless more lives."_

_"You make it sound like I'm a hero."_

_"Because you_ are _." Garrus took Shepard's gauntlets from her hands and slipped his own around hers, patting them awkwardly. "Ever since you came back from the dead, you've done nothing but missions, and I think all of that has worn you down. I get what you're feeling, Shepard. I had a crew and a mission once. I spent just as many sleepless nights as you did, planning, preparing, making sure my men see the light of another day. For a long time, all I thought about was cleaning the streets of Omega. And when the rest of my crew died, I thought, 'This is the end, Garrus. Might as well go out with a bang.' But you came and dragged my sorry ass out of that impossible firefight. I hope you know how grateful I am that you came and saved me._

_"Now you're making preparations to head back to Earth, and it seems to me that something's keeping you from going back. You helped me make what amends I could with Sidonis. You helped Tali clear her name and you were there for her when her father couldn't." He coughed and seemed embarrassed at the mention of Tali. "What I'm trying to say is, I want to help you, Shepard. Just like you helped us."_

_"I don't need help," Shepard said sharply. She flinched. "I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Garrus. But there's nothing wrong. I'm fine."_

_"If you're fine, then what's stopping you from returning back to Earth?"_

_"...Liara." Shepard finally admitted. "I've been thinking about her lately. Mostly, I've been thinking about how to tell her about my impending trial. She deserves to know."_

_"You mean you haven't told her?"_

_Shepard pulled away from his grip and stood up, moving away from the couch to stare miserably at the aquarium. "I'm ashamed, Garrus—of a lot of things. Not saving the Bahak system, that's one of them. Running away whenever things got a little too intimate, that's another." She inhaled sharply. "I don't want any more regrets, especially not with Liara. But I don't know how to make amends with her."_

_"Shepard," Garrus began in a tone that was unnervingly abrupt and angry, "every person on this ship has blood on their hands. Every person on this ship has regretted something. We don't expect you to act like a saint, Shepard, not after you saw our personal demons and continued to accept us as part of your crew."_

_"I know."_

_"Then what's stopping you?"_

_The light emanating from the aquarium made the other half of Shepard's face darker in contrast, as she turned slightly to meet Garrus's resolute expression. "I want to do something for her," she confessed quietly. "But I-I've never been in a relationship before, and I'm not really sure how courtship works. And I'm not used to being so intoxicated with another person that I lose myself in their presence. The few times that we kissed—I just felt so vulnerable. It_ scares _me, Garrus. More than the Reapers ever could. Them I could just shoot in the face."_

_"Do you trust her, Shepard?"_

_"Of course I do!"_

_"Then there's no reason to be afraid. Vulnerable? You?" He snorted. "You're only vulnerable around her because you trust her enough to let your guard down. Girl, you can't say that you've loved someone until you've bared yourself completely to them, even the parts of you that you hide behind your carapaces."_

_"You're right." Shepard cradled one arm and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course you're right. God, I feel so petty and childish now."_

_Garrus's only response was to beam back. "So how shall we plan this date of yours? Do you still have that dress Kasumi gave you? And music? What's your taste in music like? Do you think Joker will lend us his copy of_ _Vaenia? I've always wanted to watch it_ _—purely out of curiosity, if...you must know."_

* * *

Lying down on the floor with her extra shirt as a modest pillow, the headache seemed far away and, for the time being, negligible. How many hours had it been since she last took a break? It was hard to tell. A part of her was quite adamant to get back to work, re-watching videos of the Reaper invasion floating around on the extranet, studying their flight patterns and talking to some of Hackett's best strategists on possible courses of action their ships could take. She was relieved to note that the Reapers had a uniform design despite their differences in size. Having fought against the human Reaper in the Collector's base, she had initially feared that they would have to deal with an assortment of Reapers based on previous life-forms that they had already destroyed or subjugated. Fortunately, she had not seen other subtypes of the Sovereign and Destroyer class Reapers, which meant that they had only succeeded in creating ground soldiers from the bodies of their previous enemies.

A sharp burst of pain near her ocular adnexa reminded her that she was supposed to be on break. Reluctantly, she moved to a sitting position, cradling her head with one hand as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

"I heard from your companion that you were communing with the ship's engine core, Commander," someone spoke dryly from the stairs. The voice was gravelly and thick, like crackling sandpaper against rough stone.

"What? The ship isn't even equipped with a proper VI that could relay its—"

"Relax; I was joking."

"Well, I apologize," Shepard said wearily. To prove her sincerity, she turned to give the other speaker a polite tilt of the head and froze. Standing at the foot of the stairs was a dark-skinned batarian wearing a medical smock in the slate grey, white and purple colours of New Ilos. Even to Shepard's keen eyes, there was nothing immediately distinguishing about his features. The batarians had always been an unappealing species to most humans, who were not only unused to the two pairs of eyes, but were also uncomfortable with the sloping folds, the ridged snout and the perpetual glowers. With the racist mistreatment from both the humans and the batarians, it was very rare for either side to determine certain nuances in the face and body build. As such, staring up at this impassive stranger, Shepard could only feel a sense of dread, uncertainty and irrational fear.

A part of her wished she had brought a gun.

Another part of her wanted to turn on her omni-tool, activate its omni-blade function and slam it against this batarian's throat.

And another part wanted to turn tail and flee.

Instead, she held her ground, stifled her urge to count the several ways she could kill him without using a gun—' _incinerate, incinerate,'_ her mind whispered insistently—and asked herself mentally, _What would John do?_

She released her breath, unclenched her fists, and croaked, "Have we met before?"

"It's been more than a year, Commander Shepard." The batarian spoke softly in a more neutral tone. "Of course it was vain of me to think that you would remember me. I was probably one among many civilians that you saved during the plague in Omega, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless."

Shepard glanced away uncertainly. "There is no need to thank me."

"So you are as modest as they claim," was the curt reply.

"If you will excuse me," Shepard said in a voice tempered with steel, "I have obligations I need to tend to."

She tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps and activated her left omni-tool unthinkingly.

"Peace," the batarian spoke solemnly and placed a bottle of water on her work table, as well as a cup with some medication. "This might help ease the pain of your headache, Commander." Seeing her startled expression, he elaborated, "Your XO had the forethought to warn me of your tendency to overwork yourself. I would not be doing my duty properly if I did not," he paused, struggling for the right words to say, "provide you medical aid. My door is always open, Commander. If you need something stronger, do not hesitate to see me." He tilted his head to the left in a sign of respect and left.

" _Fuck_ ," Shepard groaned when he was no longer in sight, pressing her eyes against the palms of her hands. Pushing herself off the ground, she moved towards her work station once more and turned on her private terminal as well as the three floating monitors that allowed her to correspond with her team while observing the progress of their various projects. She saw several messages blinking on the outer-left screen and selected one of them, opening a fifteen-page document from Dr. Baynham concerning the side-effects of Thorian indoctrination.

The medicine beside her suddenly seemed so much more tempting.

She picked it up and examined the contents of the cup warily. The nearest trash bin was a floor up...

The cup hovered close to her mouth and then settled back down on the table. "I can't do this," she hissed, grabbing the bottle of water instead and taking a long, swift drink before turning on her heel and marching up the stairs. Leaning against the entrance to the Engineering deck, she watched the eezo core pulsate and pressed the cool surface of the bottle against her cheek.

"I appreciate the gesture," the batarian had said. Shepard inhaled sharply and sunk to her knees. Like that meant anything to her. Like that somehow made her a better human being.

No, no. Who was she kidding? Strange that the Batarian Hegemony was right for once, in accusing her of being responsible for the destruction of the Bahak system, one of the few under batarian control. Stranger still that there were those who did not agree with the hegemony's accusation, even though it was the truth.

How could she accept his gratitude, knowing that if he knew the truth, he would be not be so _kind_ towards her?

Had her action been truly, justly motivated? No. She had saved him to make a statement to Cerberus that day. "I am not like you and your human-loving scum. I am better than you— _greater_ than you. You might have brought back my body from the dead, but that does not mean you own me. I can still be a paragon to others, synthetic shit embedded in my skull or not."

But in her heart, in her darkest dreams, she had not saved him. She had not shown him mercy.

And how it disgusted her to even _consider_ doing something so horrible! Her comrades pat her on the back and tell her that she's a wonderful example to the people, a role model, when deep down she's just a horrid monster hiding behind the mask of charity, nobility, and warm, fuzzy feelings.

The vengeance that was born from the dying embers of Mindoir had not disappeared. They had simply festered inside her, a reprehensible anger that only knew bitterness—that could not take on the weight of love and camaraderie, and so tucked itself away within the edges of her mind and her heart, only rearing its ugly head whenever a batarian was nearby.

...She still had nightmares from stabbing one of them repeatedly with a glass shard.

Shepard felt warm arms embracing her tenderly and realized that she had been crying. She rubbed away the tears and protested weakly. "I-I'm fine."

Kasumi didn't say a word, only pulling her closer.

It would be a while before Shepard found the courage to speak again. By then, the pounding headache had ebbed away into an occasional murmur of pain, and the tears had long since dried.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

There was a tense silence, and then, "Sometimes it frustrates me that I can't shut you up as easily as Liara can." Kasumi smirked playfully at her commander. "With a kiss I mean."

"Is your life's purpose to constantly tease me?"

"No; just to steal your breath away," Kasumi said lightly, winking at an increasingly blushing Shepard. "I am a master thief after all."

"I'll take that as a yes," Shepard sighed and relaxed into her friend's arms. "About what happened—?"

"My lips are sealed, Commander," Kasumi promised. "Oh, there I go again, talking about lips and kissing. A Freudian slip perhaps?"

"Now you're just pushing it." Shepard said offhandedly. "I swear. You guys are all the same, flirting with me simply because I am so easily embarrassed."

Kasumi let out a bitter chuckle. "And have you ever considered that some of us might have been interested in you?"

"Wait! You're not—are you?" Shepard stuttered. "Because I'm kind of committed."

"We know. Listen, Shepard, you've already broken a lot of conventions when it comes to military command. The truth is, a lot of us see you more as a friend, or as a younger sibling than as a leader."

"That would explain the number of insubordinations going on in my ship."

Kasumi ignored the quip and continued, "And sometimes it feels like you never let your guard down when you're with us. It feels like you're always putting on a brave front and trying to carry everyone else's burdens. How you even managed to squeeze in enough time to help the rest of us with our petty problems is beyond me." Stroking Shepard's arm, she added, "We're not going to stop respecting you for showing weakness once in a while. We have your back, Shep."

"I suppose." The shorter woman eased herself from Kasumi's embrace and turned to face her fully. "I—there are things that I'd rather not talk about. There are memories that I'd rather not revisit."

"So you weren't stressing out because of the Reaper invasion?"

"Oh, damn." Shepard groaned. "Look, forget I..." Her shoulders drooped. "Well obviously you won't." She nervously rifled through her hair, uncertain of what to say.

Kasumi, understanding Shepard's silent dilemma, picked up her free hand and said, "It doesn't have to be today. I'll be here when you're ready to tell me what's been bothering you." Her declaration was met with an expression of gratitude.

"Hey, girls—woops! Was I interrupting something?" Standing near the adjoining door to the main hallway of the Engineering deck was Feron, a pack of cards in one hand.

"We're just gossiping." Kasumi replied without a moment's pause. "So you're making good on your promise after all, eh?"

The grin returned on Feron's face. "Well, how can I possibly say no to poker?"

* * *

The inside of the helmet was sticky with perspiration and almost just as suffocating. She resisted the urge to pull it off and wipe her brow, especially now while she was in enemy territory. Instead, she peered through her sniper rifle and saw similarly coloured helmets a floor below her, hiding amidst the rubble. _Shoot them. Kill them._ The dark god demanded gleefully, but she ignored the impulse. Killing her teammates would give her away, and she could not afford that. Not right now.

She squeezed the trigger and reloaded quickly, the motions familiar to her. A few seconds later, another Cannibal fell from her sniper rifle. She risked another shot at the batarian-looking husks before scrambling from her vantage point, her area likely compromised. She jumped over a fallen pillar and pressed against the surface of another one, straining her ears as she listened to the heavy footsteps of several Reaper infantry fading in the distance.

"Where the hell are you, Martinez?" Her superior demanded through the crackle of comm. static. "We need you here ASAP, covering our men on the second floor."

"Aye, aye," she growled darkly and switched to her M-5 Phalanx, one of the three pistols available in their armoury. It was the more lightweight gun, and dealt more damage than the M-3 Predator. "Be there in a bit."

Climbing over her cover, she peered through the dark hallway and scampered forward, looking for her next vantage point. _Not here. Not here._ The voice whispered in her mind, but she had long since learned to ignore it. Without pain to emphasize its commands, it had no thrall over her.

She rolled a grenade towards a group of Cannibals hunched together in a corner and ducked, waiting for the explosion to take them out. Once that was done, she headed for a hole on the floor which was large enough for her to slip through.

"Ah, Martinez, there you are." Her superior spoke, relief evident in his voice. "I thought for a moment there you were another one of those damn husks."

She refrained from thinking of a suitable retort and crouched on the ground near him where a Reaper artifact was half embedded on the ground. There was something about this device that made her want to leave. _Not here._ The voice insisted. _Go. Run. Leave._ She reached for the device with one hand despite the god's wishes to flee and grimaced as an arc of pain travelled from her forehead downwards across her cheek. For a moment, she was stunned with fear at the thought of having to deal with his punishments again, but the moment passed. The god was dead; they had made sure of that. _Shepard_ had made sure of that. Finally, she found her voice and asked, "Is this what we're looking for, sir?"

"Yes." The man sounded delighted as he patted her shoulder and pulled her close, making her even more uncomfortable. "This is our salvation."

* * *

"We'll be in contact with the geth envoy in twenty, Commander Shepard," Feron spoke from Shepard's personal channel.

"Thank you, Feron." She closed their link through her omni-tool and took one last, fleeting glance at the message she was composing for one Tannor Nuara before pressing the 'send' icon and closing her private terminal with a tired sigh. She leaned against her makeshift desk, taking deep breaths to forcibly disperse the growing tension within. For a brief moment, she wished Liara was there, standing by her side once more. There was something about Liara that could calm her regardless of the situation. Once, she remembered asking Liara if the asari had a special pheromone that could calm the other species, much to their combined embarrassment. The answer had been 'no', of course, though Shepard had a suspicion that it still had something to do with asari physiology.

...Liara.

Shepard took a deep breath and tilted her head, staring at the meshed metal ceiling above, her eyes trailing along a pipe running across the room. Falling in love with the Prothean archaeologist had been an unintentional move on her part. She had been so focused on the mission, so focused on bringing Saren down, that everything else was inconsequential; everything else was an unnecessary distraction. And yet—and yet Liara still managed to somehow become a part of her life; to become someone important to her.

And it frankly scared her, how impulsive she became around Liara. If the asari was in trouble, more often than not she would end up rushing towards Liara, her methods becoming all the more cruel and desperate against her enemies if it meant getting to her beloved in time. This was an anomaly in her behaviour, she was sure; when Garrus or Tali or any of her other squad-mates were in danger, she didn't act so single-mindedly bullheaded. She usually had enough sense to properly incapacitate her enemies and coordinate with the others when attempting to rescue someone. She usually had enough sense to know when to put the mission first, and leave the saving to others.

She was almost glad that Liara had been busy during her 'tenure' as a Cerberus dog, running around doing favours for the Illusive Man. Miranda would have probably scoffed at her for being so emotionally unstable. Or she would have used it to her advantage in trying to keep Shepard in line—probably both.

And now, her relationship with Liara was becoming a liability once more. Honestly, Feron was a good drell—damn it, why did that sound so condescending in her mind, like she was referring to him as a _pet_?—and he had done nothing wrong to Shepard, not really. He just happened to be Liara's friend, the one mutually exclusive person in both of their circles of friendship. Shepard didn't like admitting it, but she was bloody well jealous of him, of the time he spent with Liara after Shepard had died.

It was an irrational envy; such emotions usually were. Still, Shepard felt guilty for harbouring these negative feelings towards him. She was supposed to be better than this, for crying out loud! What would John say if he saw her now, being so petty and, and bitter for not being the only important person in Liara's life?

"I need a drink," she muttered under her breath, her body slumped against one of the metal support beams. _And I need to apologize to Feron properly,_ she mused. The smiling pilot had been more than amicable during their brief game of cards. He'd made the effort to talk to her, despite her awkward, pointed silence. He'd also been quite forgiving, even after losing his money to both Shepard and Kasumi. He deserved better than her aloof treatment. _After this is over_ , she promised herself.

_And what of the batarian earlier? Will you seek his forgiveness too?_

That thought sounded suspiciously like a John thought. Shepard suppressed another sigh and headed for the elevator. "We'll see."

She nodded at a pair of asari tech specialists near the bridge and headed for the conference room at the stern of the ship where Kasumi awaited.

"Commander Shepard, I trust that your quarters were adequate?" Major Kirrahe asked.

"The Engineering deck is more than adequate for someone like me, Major Kirrahe," Shepard replied, smiling brightly at the salarian STG veteran. "Please, I am truly grateful for the space you provided."

"Technically, this is _your_ ship, Commander. I am merely in command of it."

"New Ilos is a joint project," Shepard insisted.

"If you say so," Major Kirrahe said, though he continued to sound displeased.

"What were you up to anyway, Shepard?" Kasumi inquired curiously. "Don't tell me you were working on those schematics of yours again. There is such a thing as rest, you know. It's not a privilege that applies only to us lesser folk."

Shepard laughed. "I was answering a few messages from our friends."

"Oh? How is the rest of the gang?"

"Samara's visiting her daughters' monastery. She says that she'll be rendezvousing with us soon, and that we can count on her support, as long as the Reapers stay away from the more vulnerable asari territories that house the ardat-yakshi. Her way of showing motherly concern, I suppose. I would have promised her some reinforcements in those areas if we had more resources but..." Shepard shook her head grimly. "Scout vessels are all I can provide for now."

She sat on one of the chairs around the oval-shaped conference table and motioned for them to take a seat. "Grunt is with Wrex, butting heads with the other krogan."

"Literally, of course," Kasumi added.

"He's tank-born. I guess it's his way of proving himself to the other krogan that he's just as capable. Let's see. Thane is recovering nicely at Huerta Memorial Hospital. His replacement lungs are working perfectly. With the new supplements, his body should theoretically adapt to the new pair which is capable of humid environments. Something we have to thank Cerberus's expensive med equipment for." Shepard paused, the fatigue slowly becoming more apparent in her body language. "I'm also having him watch over Kaidan. Apparently his L2 implants received more damage than they initially thought. The doctor I assigned for him specifically and Dr. Michel have managed to remove the implant successfully, but I fear that he might get antsy and restless now that they're gone. He'll probably want to have them replaced."

"Is that a sound idea, Commander Shepard?" Major Kirrahe asked softly.

"His body isn't in perfect shape," Shepard began and turned to stare at the window to her left. "But with his pigheadedness, I'm sure he'll pull through."

"And what of Jacob and the others?"

"I haven't heard from Jacob ever since he fell off the radar. I had hoped that he would join the Alliance again, but I guess he's found something else to occupy his time. I have some idea of where Miranda might be, but until Jack and her team can extract her successfully, I can't really vouch for her whereabouts. Did I mention Jack is a teacher now?" Shepard's grin returned as she shook her head in disbelief. "I'd love to catch up with her and see how well that's going."

"Zaeed Massani has been rallying smaller bands of mercenary groups to fight against the Reapers, and Mordin Solus has returned to his STG base as one of their advisors," the newcomer supplied, taking a seat across Shepard.

"I wasn't aware you were following the others too, Legion." Shepard said, leaning forward.

"They are worthy allies," Legion admitted. "We took an interest in them because Shepard-Commander has taken an interest in them." He took a moment to let that sink in before adding, "It is good to see you again, Shepard-Commander."

"And you, Legion." Shepard examined Legion carefully and saw that his body had received new upgrades. To an untrained eye, the geth appeared as he usually did, with the N7 crest perhaps looking a little bit more worn-down than before. Having taken an interest in Legion's unit days after the Suicide Mission, Shepard had made notes of various improvements that could be done to his armour for greater mobility and stronger kinetic barriers. Seeing the nuances in his body told her that he had probably gained access to those notes. She simply continued to smile. "I trust you are aware of the situation with the quarians?"

"We were hoping that it would not come to this, but we believe that they are preparing for war, yes."

"I take it you are still firm on your stance against the Old Machines?" Shepard asked, using the term that the geth favoured as a sign of respect.

"Of course, Shepard-Commander. We have not struggled so long only for one master to be replaced by another. We wish only to coexist with others, and if we cannot have that, then we wish only to be left alone in peace."

"Unlikely to happen now if we don't interfere."

"We were hoping you would act as our ambassador for the quarians. The previous envoy ship that we sent was . . . negatively received, to say the least."

"You want me to speak on your behalf." Shepard didn't look too thrilled with the idea. "I'd be more than happy to play mediator, but if you want for this to work, you have to send them a representative to show your sincerity."

Legion silently regarded her, his single blue light dimming for a moment. Finally, he said, "Will this platform suffice?"

Shepard appeared equally thoughtful. "That depends. How many geth did you bring with you?"

* * *

The darkness that stretched across the immeasurable void spared no answers for Tali. If anything, it seemed only to magnify the emptiness spreading across her chest, making her numb all over. The admiral suit she wore still felt strange against her skin, the colours too bright, the fabric too _damn_ soft. The familiar weight of her shotgun against her back was gone for the moment, replaced with the smaller hand pistol on her hip. The other admirals were unaccustomed to wearing weapons within their ships, and seeing her around with her shotgun made them uneasy. At least she didn't feel so naked with the M-5 Phalanx she'd managed to requisition from Reegar.

Tali inhaled through her filtered mask and felt the heavy weight of duty pressing against her shoulders. Being the youngest admiral on board was an honour, true, but it felt more like a pair of shackles to her. _They only wanted you for your experience fighting the geth. That, and to honour your dead father for providing them with enough information to build a weapon against the geth._

 _Is this what you want, Tali?_ The Shepard in her asked. _To risk the lives of your people because you want to rectify a_ mistake _? Because it's not about retaking the home-world, you understand. Not when the geth are more than willing to negotiate_ _—_

But could she convince the rest of the admiralty board that the geth mean no harm? Koris would undoubtedly take her side. Auntie Raan would be a bit more reluctant, but surely she'd listen? Tali clamped her hands behind her back, knowing she had a tendency to wring them when she was nervous. Getting those two on her side might mean a majority for her in the board, but Gerrel commanded the heavy fleet, and Xen had the schematics for the weapon. She knew they'd attack the geth regardless of the voting outcome.

 _So you see, Shepard, it's not that I want to fight the geth. It's just that my say has very little weight compared to the others._ Tali thought bitterly.

"Tali?" Shepard's voice echoed through her helmet, making her jerk her head in surprise.

"Shepard?" Tali looked around her temporary quarters, trying to find the source of Shepard's voice. "How the hell are you talking to me?"

"Well..." Her commander sounded embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind, but I kind of left a backdoor in your suit's protocols when I was helping Admiral Raan with designing your new admiral getup."

Tali sputtered wordlessly and sat heavily on her bed, uncertain of how to reply. Eventually, she settled for, "You knew they would give me the admiral seat?"

"I was the one who suggested it to your aunt," Shepard said cheerfully from the other line. "Not that I was expecting them to listen."

"They rarely do to an outsider," Tali muttered. "So what do I owe the pleasure, Commander? Couldn't you wait until we see each other face to face?"

"You mean mask to face?" the older woman teased.

"Hear that?" Tali paused. "That's the sound of me _not_ laughing."

"I can see that." In a more earnest tone, she said, "Hey, Tali, there's something I need to ask you."

Tali bit back another retort and sighed. "Shepard, if this is about the geth, there's nothing I can do. The admiralty board won't listen. Not to someone like me."

"I want to know if I can trust you." Shepard said softly.

Tali blinked. Frowning, she turned on her omni-tool and began a sequence of algorithms to determine the location of the channel broadcasting the signals. Her search was met with much resistance.

"I hope you don't mind," Shepard continued in that same quiet tone, "but I have this conversation hidden from most of the standard searching algorithms. No one must know that I am communicating with you right now."

"And how can I be certain that you're the real Commander Shepard?" Tali demanded. "For all I know, this is just another plot to get me to step down from the admiralty board!"

"Another plot?" Shepard sounded genuinely concerned, which only made Tali feel worse.

It was more of an accusation than a plot, really. A few months after Tali had returned to the Migrant Fleet and was given the position of Admiral, one of the quarians working under her had come forth to the board, accusing her of sending critical data to the geth. If not for Xen, of all people, who quickly come to her defense, Tali might have had to deal with another trial so soon after her last one. As it was, she had become more paranoid in general. Shepard's voice simply had a way of putting her at ease; a weakness that she knew might be exploited someday.

"If this is your idea of a joke," Tali growled threateningly, "I have a shotgun, and I am not afraid to make you bleed."

"Do you always threaten people you don't mind linking suits with?"

The hand hovering over her omni-tool clenched into a fist. "Shepard..."

"Do you still trust me?"

* * *

Members of the admiralty board stepped into SSV Virmire, cautiously looking around as they were guided to the conference room by a sombre-faced elcor. Standing at the head of the round, elongated table was the commander, looking striking in her battle-worn grey armour. They shuffled towards their respective seats and shot Shepard uncertain looks.

"You requested an audience with the full admiralty board, Commander Shepard," Raan began. "Well, we're here now. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"If you're here to ask for quarian support, we cannot give it to you at this time," Gerrel added before Shepard could respond. "Currently, we are busy dealing with our own problems. The geth plan to attack our fleet soon, you see. We already had to shoot a few scout ships down before they could get close."

Tali was glad for the mask she wore and the table that hid her shaking fists. Of course Gerrel would use those envoy ships as an excuse for the Migrant Fleet to go on 'defensive'.

"And how are you so sure that they are planning for war?" Shepard inquired politely in a voice as cold as steel.

"We have heard reports of geth ships coming out of the Perseus Veil," Xen insisted.

 _Yes, because they were preparing to lend their support for Shepard when we began amassing our own ships to wage war against them. Talk about misinterpreting geth activity for your own justifications._ Tali thought. _I'm surprised you're making the effort at all. Why not just tell Shepard outright that you want to retake Rannoch and repurpose the geth or destroy them completely, Admiral Xen?_

"And have they made any attempt to actually attack you?"

Gerrel leaned forward, bracing both elbows against the table. "As I've said, they've sent scout ships—"

"And were any of these ships armed?"

Tali could see both admirals deflating slightly from their seats. "No, Commander Shepard." She answered quickly before either could respond. "In fact, they were sending us messages asking for a parley."

"Clearly an act of deceit," Xen insisted.

"Geth do not deceive." A new voice interrupted their conversation. "Nor do they infiltrate."

"We know, Legion," Tali said in a muted tone, tightening her grip on the pistol that she had de-magnetized at the sound of his familiar voice.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gerrel snapped, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Shepard. "You did not warn us that a geth would be joining our meeting."

"If I did," Shepard said quietly and moved to parade rest, her hands clamped behind her back, "I wouldn't have been able to do this." She nodded imperceptibly. If Tali hadn't been expecting her signal, she would have missed it entirely.

There was a slight sound as several bodies appeared from nowhere, having deactivated their stealth cloaks. Tali counted three geth hunters pointing M-3 Predators at Gerrel, Xen, and even Raan. Kasumi, appeared behind Koris, a pistol also trained at the admiral. Steeling her nerves, Tali stood up abruptly and joined Shepard's side, turning the safety off her own weapon.

"So this is what the great Commander Shepard stoops to?" Xen accused, moving to a standing position as well. "Threatening others?"

"I have tried reasoning with you," Shepard said in that same calm voice, as if they were only talking about the weather. "This simply seemed like the next logical step."

"We do not wish to go to war with you." Legion spoke up and spread his arms in a gesture of peace. "We have tried sending you diplomats, but you refused to negotiate. So we asked Shepard-Commander as our mediator instead. Apparently, this is how humans parley. It is proving to be more effective than the methods we have gleaned from the extranet."

"And what do you hope to accomplish by killing us? Surely it would only speed the process of this war?" Raan interjected.

"Kasumi, if you will?"

The master thief smiled cockily and turned on her omni-tool. Waving it across her chest, her cloak rippled and changed, revealing a copy of Koris in her stead. "We desire only peace," she said in a voice that sounded eerily like Koris's.

"That's an interesting way of showing it," the real Koris said in a neutral tone.

"Do you really think you can replace us?" Xen slammed a fist against the table, catching the attention of the other geth hunters. "I'm the only one in this room who knows how to operate our secret weapon! If you kill me, my team of engineers will know something is amiss!"

_Why are you telling them this, Admiral Xen? Surely it would benefit your 'cause' more if they were not forewarned about the repercussions of your death. Unless..._

"You're scared," Shepard said bluntly before Tali could come to the same conclusion herself. "You don't want to die so you give us empty threats. But you don't have to worry, Admiral. Not a single shot will be fired in this room if the admiralty board agrees to make their peace with the geth."

"Empty threats?" sputtered Xen. "I was not lying when I said that I am the only one who—"

"Knows how to operate your weapon that can cause massive white-noise jamming against geth scanning systems, like a very widespread flashbang?" Shepard interrupted. "Easily rectified, especially if we were to upgrade geth software, thus rendering your invention irrelevant either way."

"How did you—?" Xen turned her gaze towards Tali who flinched inwardly and was glad for the masks on both of their faces. "You! You _are_ a traitor! I should have never supported you in the first place."

Shepard raised a hand to draw attention to herself. "You mock me, Admiral Daro'Xen. Like you I am a tech specialist who has studied Rael'Zorah's research. I simply came to the same conclusions as you did." She paused and leaned forward to give Xen an intense stare. "Tell me," she drawled, "what is it that you desire?"

"The geth, under our control again," Xen replied boldly. "Think about it, Commander Shepard. If we can have the biggest synthetic army in the galaxy, people will respect us again. You humans are newcomers and already you possess a seat in the Council. Us?" Xen laughed bitterly. "We don't even have an embassy! So you can't claim to understand how we feel. You can't understand why we must do what we must. We need the geth. Shut up, Gerrel," she said harshly when the other quarian tried to speak. "You know as well as I that the geth will be an advantage if we can make them obey us once more."

"Are you trying to prove something, Admiral?" Shepard asked sharply, throwing the brilliant quarian engineer off. "Because here are the geth, willing to work side by side with you, and yet you demand more from them. You feel that you must _imprison_ them to your whims once more. If you really want the Council and the rest of Citadel space to respect you, is enslaving these people really the answer to your problem?"

"Like we can trust them! They attacked our people and drove us from the home-world!"

"Only because we attacked them first," Tali reminded the furious admiral. "Let's face it. All of their actions so far were done out of self-defense."

"Even this?" Gerrel finally spoke up. "Threatening us?"

"We weren't exactly subtle with our own preparations," Raan rebutted wearily. "We _were_ going to wage war against them, Gerrel."

"Think about it, Admiral," Shepard continued persistently, her eyes still trained at Xen. "The geth will work with you. Hell, they'll even let you go back to Rannoch, so long as you leave some space for them."

"We require few things," Legion agreed. "And we have very little interest in aesthetically-pleasing sceneries."

"Indeed," Shepard's lips quirked slightly. "Windows are a structural weakness."

"And we have bigger problems to worry about," Kasumi pointed out in Koris's voice, unnerving the others. "The Reapers haven't hit Rannoch yet, but soon they will, and we need as much support as we can get. Imagine coming to the aid of the other Councillors' home-worlds _with_ the geth in tow."

"You'll be heralded as heroes. And no one has to know that all of the prep you've done until now was to fight the geth." Shepard straightened her back and smirked. "You want an embassy in the Citadel? I bet they'll be handing you that and more once this war is over. And if the Councillors are too idiotic to know where credit is due, I will personally make sure that they remember that the quarians were one of the first to unite with the other species to fight against the Reapers. They will remember how the quarians were the first to set aside their petty differences against an old enemy for the greater good of the galaxy."

"You paint such a pretty picture, Commander Shepard," Gerrel snarled, turning on his omni-tool as he finally stood from his place between Xen and Raan. "But how are we so sure that we can trust you?" He glared at Legion. "How are we so sure that we can trust _them_?"

"What other alternative do you have?" Shepard said coolly, lifting her own borrowed M-3 Predator towards him. "Even if I release you right now, and take the geth with me to fight the Reapers, you stand to lose, Admiral. You may not have realized this, but there is a bigger threat out there, and it's not going to send you envoys any time soon. It's not going to fall against your cheap parlour tricks either. Do you truly want to face the Reapers on your own?"

"I have had enough of this!" Gerrel turned on his omni-tool and pressed one hand against his helmet. "All units under my command, bombard—"

The sound of two shots reverberated across the room. Gerrel's body slumped forward, smearing red all over the table.

"Tali," Shepard spoke in a hoarse voice, filled with unbridled, raw emotion, startling the young quarian. "Kindly call off the attack." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, lowering her weapon. " _Please._ "


	6. Enemy Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. To make up for it, for anyone who hasn't yet checked out my tumblr (heteronormativityoff), I drew some silly fanart+puns. Check them out sometime, 'kay? Also, I'd like to thank Midground (who is writing an awesome Korra/Asami fic) for beta-reading this chapter despite not knowing the fandom. :3 Kudos to you for doing such a great job! And a thumbs-up to my mini-me who thought of this chapter's title (via TV Tropes). Hahaha.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Tell me all the feels, 'kay?

**Chapter Five - Enemy Mine**

_She stood outside the Shadow Broker's main chamber, one hand pressed against the three-inch thick metal door, heart in her throat, the chasm between them lengthening even as she stood still and wished otherwise. She might die tomorrow but it was a dull fear compared to the gnawing doubt, the overwhelming misery, and the throbbing anxiety that dogged her now._

_. . . She might die tomorrow._

_Perhaps it was the sense of urgency from her imminent dance with Death that brought her here. Perhaps it was the guilt that had long since festered inside her heart. Perhaps it was the jealousy and the fierce desire to claim what was hers—_ Liara was no one's, not even hers, not really _—that had spurred her into action. Regardless, she stood here now, her pulse racing in anticipation, a singularity churning in her stomach. She inhaled._

_When she entered, the silver drone greeted her by name and informed her of the various updates she could look into at several stations scattered across the room. She listened half-heartedly to his report and headed straight for the main computer terminal where Liara worked. Her footsteps were light as she padded towards the taller asari, though her trembling heart drummed loudly against her ears, a deafening dissonance in contrast to the quiet of the vast Intel Centre where Liara spent her waking days._

_Steeling herself, she slid her arms around Liara's waist and buried her face against the warmth of Liara's shoulder, breathing in the scent of salt water and sea. "Shepard," the asari spoke, tensing at her touch. "What a pleasant surprise."_

_It was hard to think of something to say when all the words had fled her; all she had left was the love that she felt and the abysmal horror at the thought of rejection._

_Liara must have sensed the distress Shepard felt because she had turned around and draped her arms over Shepard's shoulders, pulling the commander close. "Is there something wrong?"_

_If only she could sink into that embrace and never resurface, become one with this magnificent ocean, whose depths she had not yet fully explored—_ of course not, for they had not made love to each other, had not surrendered their body to the other, because Shepard was a coward _—and drown in her feelings for the former archaeologist._

_"Embrace eternity with me," Shepard urged, eyes shining earnestly, the soft padding of her fingertips caressing Liara's freckled cheeks—pink flesh against dark lapis lazuli. A deep flush blossomed across blue skin, mesmerizing the dark-haired woman. Liara's half-lidded gaze and silent reticence brought Shepard out of her brief reverie. Understanding Liara's hesitance, she clarified, "I've long since decided that telling you 'I love you' is a poor substitute for expressing how I feel about you, and an even poorer substitute for an apology." She moved to her tiptoes and leaned her forehead against Liara's. "Let us peer into the windows of my soul."_

_They were different people from the awkward, not-quite lovers who had parted on a strained note aboard the burning Normandy. The Shepard who cared only about duty and winning the good fight had been replaced by a jaded soldier who could never fully put her faith in the Alliance again. For the longest time, this Shepard had remained a spectre: not the Special Tactics and Recon title that had been bestowed upon her by those-who-lead, but a human ghost who drifted through her days, mission after mission, a shadow of that once bright illumination, who had managed to bring a multi-species crew together under one cause and had defeated one of the greatest threats the known universe had ever faced._

_But that had recently changed._

_For every crew member Shepard helped, for every citizen saved from the clutches of some callous mercenary or from the iron-grasp of those mysterious Collectors, for every wrong put to right, a piece of Shepard reawakened._

_And having spent her days like a meandering husk—a body without a purpose—Shepard could no longer deny her feelings any longer. For too long she had lived by the sword; it was time she lived for something greater than that._

_Now, she wished to live for the asari who had long ago captured her heart and fight for her continued existence._

_Having surrendered herself utterly to her emotions, impulse guided her lips to reverently touch the dark sapphire of her beloved. She retreated suddenly, unprepared for the rush of desire coming from Liara. In silent apology she kissed the asari a second time: a promise that she would never run away again._

* * *

Shepard wondered how long she could keep her face set in its determined expression. Her jaw ached and the whispers of a headache were beginning to form once more. Sometimes she wished she had a quarian mask to hide behind, though the anonymity might not be worth a terrible immune system and a three-hundred year old grudge against the geth.

The batarian had his back to the window, his omni-tool turned on—for what purpose Shepard did not know. _Writing a coroner's report, perhaps?_ She felt a pang of guilt at the thought and entered the med-bay before her anxiety and fear got the better of her. With deliberate care, she spoke in a clear, neutral tone, "You were looking for me, Doctor?"

"I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"This isn't an investigation is it?" Shepard's chest tightened in dismay. She was responsible for Gerrel's death. There was no question, no lingering doubt. What more needed to be said? "If you are looking for a criminal, she is standing right here."

"Is she?" Shepard didn't like the defiance in his eyes, didn't like the firm set of his jaw, or the way he was making notes on his omni-tool. _He hasn't done anything wrong,_ John reminded her. But he _was_ probing at wounds that were still fresh. "I used to be a field doctor, Commander Shepard," the batarian continued, unaware of her disapproval. "And I have seen my share of injuries and death blows. The wound on this quarian's forehead was not made from an M-3 Predator."

"What are you suggesting, Doctor?" Her grip on her emotions was beginning to slip, and she could feel the dormant volcano in her simmering. "That someone else killed the admiral?"

"I've talked with our arms master. You were all issued M-3 Predators," He spoke softly, giving her a pointed frown. "Which meant that the only one who could have killed the quarian admiral"—Shepard grabbed his arm where the omni-tool was attached and forced it against his back as she activated hers, pressing its disposable blade against his throat—"is your quarian friend." He turned all four eyes towards Shepard's. She resisted the urge to flinch. "You did not kill the admiral. Why say otherwise?"

"Tali is part of _my_ crew— _my_ responsibility." Shepard growled. "If you so much as speak one word of this to anyone outside this room, I will eviscerate you."

"I don't doubt that you will." The batarian said in a voice meant to assuage. "I just wanted to know why you did that. The quarian people will not regard you favourably for killing one of their admirals. Unless keeping them in constant fear was your plan all along."

"Do you think that turning them against one of their own would have been a better alternative?" hissed Shepard. "Threatening them was my idea, so it was ultimately my fault. You need not concern yourself with mere technicalities, Doctor."

"You are very protective of those under your command."

"If you simply called me up here to criticize how I treat my crew—"

"That was a compliment, Commander," he interjected forcefully. "Please do not push your batarian stereotypes to me so readily." Shepard could feel the press of a pistol barrel against her rib and saw that he had taken the M-3 Predator from her hip.

"Acting like a batarian doesn't help," The commander muttered.

"Should I say that you also act like a typical human from a batarian's perspective?" he asked bitterly. "Aggressive, non-compromising, easy to jump to conclusions—you are not saints, Commander. And neither are we."

"Point." Shepard slammed the blade against a nearby trolley, detaching it from her omni-tool, and pushed the medical officer away. She moved towards the entrance of the med-bay and spared the batarian one last look. "I never meant for anyone to die." She left before he could think of anything else to say.

Dr. Kohen examined the M-3 Predator she had left behind. It was empty of thermal clips.

* * *

Tali didn't much like Admiral Gerrel, but that hadn't always been true. He had been her father's friend, and he had believed her innocent when the others didn't. He'd led a militant life, yes, but he had cared about the civilians just as much as Koris did. A lifetime of war had simply made him paranoid and cynical, unable to accept peace even when it was served on a silver platter. She wanted so terribly to hate him.

It would have made killing him less . . . painful.

Because that was what she had done. Shepard might have taken the blame, but she had executed the killing shots herself. It had been a combination of panic, impulse, and more than a little anger. He had tried to attack the geth, and she didn't want any more bloodshed. Surely the life of one could be sacrificed for the lives of many?

Turning his death into a number didn't make her feel any better. In fact, she felt worse for not properly grieving for him, choosing instead to rationalize away the guilt and hurt that enveloped her—smothered her. She was a bad daughter, who could not even feel sorry for the death of her father's friend. All that time spent away from the flotilla had changed her, and she felt so confused on where her loyalties lay.

"Can't stay away from the Engineering deck, can you, Tali?" Shepard teased as she casually walked down the stairs.

"I came here to talk to you, actually," Tali admitted. "Although it _is_ comforting, being here." Away from the others. Away from the mourning.

An awkward silence descended upon them. Tali shifted uncomfortably under the older woman's scrutiny, suddenly uncertain of what to say. Initially, she had wanted to confront Shepard—she wasn't a child who couldn't take responsibility for her own actions—but the sight of this beautiful woman had stirred old feelings in Tali, constricting her throat.

"Hmm, yes," Shepard agreed, moving to stand closer to the nervous quarian. Her right hand reached for Tali's dark purple hood, smoothing its edges with a tender touch. Tali wondered how it would feel to have those same fingers pressed against her cheeks. "I am so sorry."

Her lower lip trembling, Tali unthinkingly took off her mask, stepped into Shepard's embrace and pressed her face against Shepard's neck, hot tears trickling across her fragile skin. Her sinuses were clogged, and the foreign contact was irritating her forehead and cheeks, but she refused to pull away, the warmth of Shepard's presence too unbearably wonderful.

"Hey, hey, I haven't been properly sterilized," Shepard said weakly, patting her shoulder. "Tali, I don't want you to get sick on me. I have a doctorate, true, but not on quarian physiology. I can't help you if you get an allergy attack or something."

"You are always so funny," the quarian drawled in a miserable tone. "I missed you," she whispered.

"And you," Shepard said readily. With a clean handkerchief she had found from a back pocket, she wiped away Tali's tears and lightly kissed her forehead. "I know you told me once that you wouldn't mind sharing suits with me, but I think it should be a bit more premeditated than this, yes?"

Tali resisted the urge to slap her face, stifling the sudden bitter anger in her chest. Naive—Shepard was naive and to hurt her now would be a torment for the both of them. Instead, she turned away and picked up her mask which had fallen on the ground. "Thank you, Shepard." The sincerity came a little half-choked from her lips; she silently blamed it on the slight feverish sensation now running across her spine, making her knees a little weaker than usual, heat rippling across her chest even as her lungs burned. She grimaced as her suit pricked her skin and injected various antibiotics for preventive measures.

"That's what family is for, isn't it?" Shepard asked a little throatily.

"Family," Tali repeated. Her hands balled into fists. "Is that why you made the others think you were responsible for killing Admiral Gerrel?"

"Tali," Shepard sighed.

"And now you're using that condescending tone on me. You're not my father, Shepard."

"Of course I'm not." Shepard snapped. "I haven't betrayed you, have I?"

A gloved fist slammed against a tightened jaw. Shepard took the blow unflinchingly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Tali cried, grabbing the commander's shoulders, her whole body taut with dread and sorrow. "I didn't mean—I, Shepard. . ."

"I know."

Tali had always loved Shepard. She had a brilliant mind, an easy smile, and a huge heart. From the very beginning, she had treated Tali equally, and had no problem deferring to her knowledge of ships in the unlikely event that something would go wrong in the Engineering deck. Later, when Shepard came back from the dead, she had immediately offered the young quarian the position of chief engineer, entrusting the SR-2 to Tali. When the New Ilos project was launched—secretly, of course—Shepard had turned to Tali, hoping to get her on board leading the teams in charge of retrofitting ships and designing one-man fighter jets for the coming war. If not for Tali's previous loyalties, she might have taken Shepard's offer.

And avoided this entire mess to begin with.

"What do you want from me, Shepard?" Tali asked finally, watching her nurse the forming bruise on her jaw with a pang of guilt.

"A mediator," the woman admitted. "Someone whom the quarians can trust."

Ah. With Shepard held accountable for Tali's error, her fellow admirals would continue to trust her rather than treat her as a traitor. Shepard might have created a potential enemy for taking the blame, but she had ensured that the quarians would continue to trust Tali, who was indebted to Shepard for the cover up—the sly woman.

But could the quarians continue to trust her after she had clearly chosen Shepard's side, just a few hours before?

"You already have them on your side, Shepard."

"After a threat like that?" Shepard laughed mirthlessly. "I might as well wait for the eventual stab to the back."

"It was my fault—"

"For not knowing that I had the entire room sealed off from any outside communication? For not knowing that Gerrel could have never made that call because his omni-tool cannot send signals past the fucking door?" Shepard slammed her fist against her work table. "I made a mistake, keeping you in the dark, Tali, and I am paying for it now. _Please_. Just accept my apology."

The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs gave Shepard enough time to school her expression to a more neutral one. Tali, felt another pang resonate across her chest, but remained still. A worried Koris appeared, hands clenching and unclenching around the stair's railing. "The geth are on the move, Commander."

"Where to?"

"To Rannoch," supplied the civilian fleet admiral. "Admiral Daro'Xen believes they are making a deal with the Reapers."

"And your proof, sir?"

"She managed to decode a message that the geth were broadcasting."

* * *

Xen had very little reason to trust the geth. They were created for the sole purpose to obey, to work for the greater glory of Rannoch and its neighbouring colony worlds. They were the Servant of the People. They were _not_ meant to question their masters and think for themselves. They were not meant to be treated equally because they were _machines_ and weren't the Reapers machines? _Sentient_ machines?

So really, the geth making contact with the Reapers hadn't come as a surprise to her. They weren't to be trusted, after all, and Shepard had made a mistake, trying to broker peace between them. Unfortunately for Xen, she could not derive pleasure at Shepard's remorse because the irritating human didn't seem perturbed at all when she found out that the geth had sent a message to the Reaper Destroyer in Rannoch, seeking help. Instead, she had disappeared with her ship's weapon technician for a few hours and had come back carrying an oddly-shaped weapon, reminiscent of the human crossbow, after making a mess in the armoury.

Keelah, what a strange woman. Did she honestly think she could defeat the entire geth fleet _and_ the Reaper Destroyer with such a puny weapon? Where did the thermal clips even go? What kind of stopping power did it even have? There was a scope connected to the device, but it wasn't built like a sniper rifle. Just what was Shepard planning _now_?

"Ten minutes until we reach the LZ, Commander Shepard," Koris spoke from the pilot seat.

"It hasn't even been a week yet, and already you're roping me into another suicide mission, Shep," Kasumi, the commander's suspicious companion who could _change appearances_ , complained light-heartedly. "Don't you think it's a little bit too early in this campaign for any of us to risk our lives?" Xen turned to stare at the thief, feeling a bit affronted. What kind of ship did Shepard run that she allowed such blatant insubordination from her inferiors?

"Don't you know, Kasumi?" Shepard replied just as easily, "Sign up on my crew and you're guaranteed a suicide mission at least once a week."

"Please tell me that we get healthcare benefits as part of this contract," Tali added wryly.

Xen watched the three friends warily, the furrow of her forehead tightening into a full-fledged frown. They were heading to a battlefield, and not one of them seemed at all put out by the thought. Was she the only one even genuinely concerned about the geth?

"If I still have money left by the time this war ends, I'll let you know."

"Excuse me, Commander," Xen interrupted a little too forcefully and bit her lip in embarrassment as the others focused their attention on her. "But what do you plan to do about the geth?"

For a brief moment, the commander simply looked blankly at her, as if she had asked a question in a foreign tongue. Then, that smile was back in place. "Ah, yes, I forgot that neither you nor Koris are connected to my private channel. Neither of you have been briefed about how we'll be handling the situation."

Xen noted that there was no mention of the word 'geth' at all. Did the commander still cling to some vain hope that the geth were somehow redeemable? What a naive creature.

"We will use this targeting device to redirect all of our ships' gun-fire towards the Reaper Destroyer. Since your fleet is not equipped with one-man fighter jets and the geth are currently unavailable to help—"

"They're joining the Reapers for crying out loud," Xen exploded. "'Currently unavailable to help'? Are you really going to hold on to this misplaced belief that they're on our side all this time?"

"Misplaced?" Shepard exchanged meaningful looks with Tali and Kasumi, irritating the quarian admiral further. "I'm sorry if you didn't get the memo, but the geth never left our side. They're bait."

"Bait?" echoed Koris.

"For the Reaper Destroyer," Shepard said in a matter-of-fact tone. "We don't often see them on their own. Most of the Reapers have been hunting us in packs so far, and we have yet to wear their fleet down. We just don't have the resources, and even if we did, manoeuvring through an area filled with the damn things is going to make it hard for our people to focus on one target at a time. This is the best opportunity we have so far."

An opportunity, Xen realized, to salvage the Reaper for parts and study them, to learn the Reaper's weaknesses, and to bring morale up for the rest of the galaxy. Her eyes flickered towards Kasumi's omni-tool, which Shepard had been tweaking earlier for a makeshift video-camera. Of course. Why hadn't she considered this before?

Because this could all just be subtle propaganda to try and win the quarians over to Shepard's side.

Keelah, had she always been this paranoid?

Well, when others were gunning for your job and jealous of your intellect, you had to stay paranoid. Before Tali had become part of the admiralty board, Xen had been the youngest among them, and she had fought tooth and nail to keep her damn job. Many quarians mistrusted her because of her age, and even more because of her arrogance. She had been accused of stealing other quarians' ideas, of sabotaging their equipment . . . keelah, even of being a geth sympathizer at one point! There were few people she could trust, and Shepard was most definitely _not_ a part of that list, especially not after she had killed an admiral. Someone who spoke of peace and killed the first person that dissented against them was a hypocrite, and Xen did not follow hypocrites.

Still, Shepard had a very strong argument _for_ the geth. Xen might not like her, but she had to admire the commander for her unwavering charisma. It was like gold fell out of her lips every time she spoke. No wonder she had managed to get the admiralty board to exonerate Tali without stronger evidence; if not for that charm, she might have had to reveal the true instigator of Tali's supposed crime.

Because Xen knew the truth, knew that Tali's father, Rael'Zorah, was responsible for the geth awakening aboard the Alarei. The young quarian and her commander might have covered his involvement by removing any verbal accusations or confessions implicating the deceased admiral, but they had left most of the research intact, allowing a brilliant quarian like Xen to piece together what had really happened inside the walls of the lab ship, Alarei.

Just as most quarians did, Xen wished to return to their homeland and begin anew. She knew that risks had to be taken, and that lives might be lost along the way to reacquiring Rannoch; thus, she perfectly understood Rael's rationale behind activating the geth again, though she might not have supported his actions in public, especially not after the Alarei massacre.

So she did not blame Tali for wanting to sweep the entire controversy under the rug. Nor did she begrudge Commander Shepard for trying to pull the wool over the admiralty board's eyes, as the humans would put it.

However, that did not mean that she would follow the human Spectre so readily, so _naively_. Shepard had killed Gerrel after all.

"Bring us down, Admiral Koris. We'll walk the rest of the way."

Xen stepped out of the UT-47 Kodiak, the silver border of her black hood stirring from a gentle wind. She felt her heart constrict in her throat at the sight of Rannoch, glorious Rannoch, finally before her. She had not imagined her homecoming like this, not this peaceful landing, not this bloodless entrance back to their home-world, not without the sight of a geth army marring the perfect view. _Keelah se'lai._

_By the home-world I hope to see one day._

She felt an arm around her shoulder and stiffened at the physical contact. "I dislike the old war-dog," Koris admitted quietly, "but I wish he had gotten to see this at least. Rannoch is beautiful, don't you think?"

She tried to hum a noncommittal reply, but the sound came out as a half-choked gasp. Clearing her throat, she said in a bolder tone, "And we will make it more beautiful, once we have repurposed the geth to suit our needs."

He glanced at her warily. "You heard Shepard: they're willing to help us regardless."

"Can we trust help that can think for itself?"

"Am I hearing things right? Because it sounds to me like you want our people to become isolationist," Koris countered. "The humans can think for themselves and yet we ask for their help. The asari can think for themselves—the turians, the krogan—why not the geth?"

"You know I don't mean it like that, Zaal'Koris," Xen protested.

"Perhaps we should trust Shepard this time," the older quarian advised, a hint of regret in his tone. "This petty war between the quarians and the geth _has_ to stop at some point."

"Well, the geth certainly seem sincere."

They were hushed from their argument by a sharp look from Shepard, who was a dozen paces ahead. Remaining silent, they followed her and her ground team beyond a curve of stone jutting across the mostly barren field and underneath a looming archway. They emerged into an elevated area and saw a semi-circle of geth facing the Reaper Destroyer. However, before they could move further to intercept the synthetics, a geth hunter appeared from near the entrance and stopped them, a shotgun levelled at Shepard.

Xen shot Koris an 'I told you so' expression and moved her hands behind her back, preparing her omni-tool in case the geth hunter tried to openly attack them.

"We're here to destroy the Reaper, geth," Shepard said stolidly, eyeing the single red glow coldly.

"We know. We will not stop you, Shepard-Commander." The hunter replied, equally cool.

"So let us through already," Tali demanded.

"This unit cannot let you pass until we are done uploading the rest of the Reaper codes into the Collective."

Shepard's eyes narrowed slightly. "This was not part of the bargain."

"We know. We believe Shepard-Commander would react negatively so we chose to withhold information until after the Old Machine is destroyed."

She chose not to reply, instead slamming the device she carried against the geth hunter's stomach. Hooking her weapon around the shotgun, she wrested it from the hunter's grasp and sent it flying. "Kill him if he tries anything," she growled to Tali before sending a pulse of electricity through the hunter, paralyzing him.

Tali picked up the shotgun and nodded sombrely, training it towards the downed geth who remained slumped against a rocky outcrop.

Shepard didn't waste time. She instructed Kasumi to follow her and ran for one of the geth fighter ships parked on the plateau. With Kasumi piloting the fighter ship, Shepard could stay on top of the ship's platform where a turret gun was mounted. "Tali, start syncing our ships' weapon systems to Virmire's VI. When I give the signal, have every fighting vessel shoot, got it?"

"Aye aye, Commander!"

Xen squinted—the sun's rays reflected distractingly against the surface of her mask—and moved forward to get a better look. She watched as the geth ship flew towards the Reaper Destroyer, circling around it to avoid the Reaper's cannon-fire which could easily destroy it.

Shepard must have done something because Tali was telling their ships to attack—even the ones not under her command, Xen realized, which meant someone had overridden their exclusive comm. channels to execute the order—and suddenly several beams of light were bursting from the atmosphere, striking the Reaper where it stood. For a moment, Xen thought all was lost and that Shepard had just tried to defeat an impossible foe. She had seen plenty of stories on the extranet about the seemingly indestructible force that was a Reaper—heard about the number of ships that had fallen to a Reaper attack. But then Tali was shouting at the comm. link, ordering their people to launch a second attack, and the Reaper Destroyer was faltering, teetering on one side, crying its death throes before crashing against the plateau.

There was a sudden silence, followed by a roar of exuberance from her two companions.

They had just killed a Reaper.

Granted it was one of the smaller ones.

But they had just killed a _Reaper_. Without _any_ casualties. It ended so quickly that it was almost anti-climactic.

"Did you get that on video?" Shepard asked breathlessly from their communication channel.

"Hooked up my omni-tool into this ship's system before we moved, Commander," Kasumi replied in a smug tone. "Bring me back to Virmire and I can send it to Allers for her show segment."

"Allers?" Xen blurted, finally tearing her eyes away from the smoking corpse.

"A reporter tag-along Shepard found on the Citadel." Kasumi explained. "Has good intentions. Not terribly easy on the eyes though. Still not sure why Shep picked her up."

"What can I say? She had a good elevator pitch," Shepard answered offhandedly.

"Must be one long elevator ride then," Xen barely heard Tali mutter in their shared comm. link.

"How did you kill it, Commander?" She asked curiously as they walked towards the geth fighter ship landing on the ground. "I've yet to hear of other ships going against a Reaper and winning; at least, not since Sovereign."

"I've watched the videos. I've seen how the Reapers fight. Their carapaces might be impenetrable for the time being, but their exoskeleton where their main gun is often mounted is far more vulnerable. I just waited for the right moment when the Destroyer's face-plates had parted and hit it with a targeting device so that we could concentrate all of our ships' fire towards it." Shepard explained as she climbed down the elevated platform of the ship. "This was all speculation before, of course. I had _hoped_ that it would work but. . ."

"You didn't think we'd defeat the Reaper, did you?" Kasumi finished the trailing thought for her.

"We would have found a way," Shepard said resolutely. "Although now that I've confirmed what is on every strategist's mind, the next step would be to formulate synchronized patterns of attack with lighter-weight space vessels and—"

"Now you've gotten her started like this," Tali groaned, though Xen found a hint of playfulness in her voice. "She'll make your ears fall off with all her talking at this rate."

Shepard simply raised an eyebrow but ceased to talk. Instead, she turned towards the edge of the plateau where the rest of the geth were making their way towards them, shotguns and assault rifles conspicuously protruding from behind their backs.

"Killing the Reaper was a bit premature, Shepard-Commander," Legion, the geth's leader, spoke neutrally as it approached the deactivated fighter ship, its single light appraising Shepard.

"We agreed that you would lure the Reaper out into the open." Shepard replied. Xen could sense that she was displeased about the treachery, but not _unwilling_ to listen to the geth's rationale. Xen bristled silently at this display of sympathy from the commander.

"We did."

"But you didn't tell me you were planning to do this," she added stonily.

"You would have stopped us."

"I would have asked you to take necessary precautions."

"Such as? Shackle us as your former employer shackled the AI, EDI?" Legion's face-plates lifted in agitation. "Are you even aware that much of her core programming is based on Old Machine technology?"

"You're angry."

"Emotions are an organic construct."

Shepard tried another tactic. "Why do you need the Reaper codes anyway? What if the codes somehow turn you and your people into heretics again?"

"We have seen how you handled the quarians, Shepard-Commander," Legion said, ignoring the dark looks Xen and Koris sent it. "We realize that we are not capable of standing equally with the other races, not as we are right now. We need to ascend to a higher intelligence."

"By turning into Reapers?"

"By using their codes to gain individual sentience," Legion argued. "As you know, we function as a . . . hive mind, as you humans might call it. For every downed geth, our intelligence dims a little, especially when we are not prepared for it. We may be able to create a mega-structure where we can store our various processes, but we would also create a weakness that could be exploited, especially by allies who could easily betray us."

"You don't trust me."

"We believe that we must be more vigilant when interacting with other species." Legion turned to stare at the Reaper corpse, its light dimming a little. "Regardless, our upload is incomplete. There is still something we require."

"If you think that I am going to let you upload more the next time we defeat a Reaper—"

"We need an individual imprint," Legion interrupted. "And we believe that you are the final piece we need, Shepard-Commander."

"I don't understand," Xen said and tried to move towards them. Tali, who knew her more than Shepard or Kasumi did, stopped her before she could get close enough to do anything damaging to the geth standing nearby. "Why are you even trying to reason with this machine, Commander Shepard?"

"Because I need as many resources as I can get for this damn war," Shepard retorted. "And because Legion is my _friend_."

"Even after he uploaded the Reaper codes without your knowledge?"

"Sometimes, friends do things that you can't control"—Shepard's eyes lingered at Tali's direction, piquing Xen's curiosity—"and you just have to deal with the consequences as best as you can. Because you care about them."

"Why Shepard though?" Tali asked uncomfortably, redirecting the conversation. Xen wondered if something had happened between them. Had the young quarian done something Shepard didn't approve of? Or was it the other way around? Shepard _did_ kill Gerrel after all. "She can't exactly share information the way the geth can."

"Shepard-Commander will commune with the rest of us," Legion explained. "Before we turned to Shepard-Commander for help, we were already preparing to build the mega-structure for our processes, which is why we have the equipment to plug Shepard-Commander into the consensus."

"And you're planning to what, exactly? Upload her entire personality so that you can mimic it?" Xen asked hotly.

"We have gained much from the Reaper Destroyer. But we still need a blueprint so that we may think as individuals as well. And we would like Shepard-Commander to have that honour, because she was the first organic since the Morning War—since the Creators—to offer us an open hand in a gesture of peace." Legion raised his hand expectantly towards Shepard.

Guilt, anger, pain, fear and a touch of sorrow blossomed in Xen's chest, a heavy weight that made her feel so small, made her want to struggle, to accuse, to deny. Was it really this easy? Show the geth kindness and you would have their loyalty? What a novel thought! Surely the only way to ensure that they would fight by your side was to make them submissive again, to take away their sentience and keep them _contained._ They were machines meant for work and war. It just didn't feel right, letting them get away with this, with anything really.

But oh, the things they could accomplish, working together! And with a heightened intelligence? Keelah, perhaps the geth could help solve some of the problems that they would have to face eventually, like developing their immune systems again so that they could live freely in Rannoch without their full-body suits.

But such things could easily be sabotaged. How could she trust the geth? How could the rest of the quarians?

Xen saw Shepard smile, eyes crinkling, teeth showing, and watched as the shorter woman grabbed Legion's hand and shook it vigorously. "All right, but I better have your support once all of this is over! I have an Earth to save, you know."

Their geth leader seemed pleased, although it was hard to gauge with only glowing lights and face-plates to discern the geth's mood. "We will do more than that, Shepard-Commander." Legion paused, probably conversing with the rest of his geth brothers.

Xen grimaced. What the hell was she doing, humanizing these machines?

She felt Koris's reassuring hand on her shoulder and relaxed slightly. Perhaps—perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, having them as allies. She breathed slowly through her mask.

Legion placed a hand over Shepard's own, cupping hers with both of his. "Let me show you the story of my people."


	7. Pieces of a Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for this late and unbeta'd chapter. Familial and school obligations have kept me out of the house more so than I like. Perhaps someday I will revisit this chapter and edit it. (Coordinating with my beta readers is a lot of damn work, and neither of them are available at the moment. Anyone want the job? Haha.)
> 
> This chapter in particular is a thumbs up to the multiplayer mode in ME3, which I surprisingly enjoyed. The OC introduced in this chapter even has her own twitter account, because I just enjoy writing her so much.
> 
> In regards to the Extended DLC (Damnit, Liara, stop making me cry.), this story's plot will remain largely unchanged. Rest assured, the ending that I have planned will be quite different from the canon ending. Also, know that I will be continuing this story as best as I can. Heck, I even have a sequel planned (so help me). I hope you will stay with me during the duration of this story.
> 
> Also, I have a chapter cover posted on my tumblr somewhere. :3 Check it out sometime?

**Chapter Six - Pieces of a Puzzle**

****_"Let us peer into the windows of my soul."_

_Like a droplet of ink spreading across clear water, the shared memory blossomed before Liara's mindscape, colouring her vision. The memory was really more of a patchwork of moments sewn crudely together by a mind inexperienced with joining, making the sensory overload initially too overwhelming for the asari maiden. With a comforting hand on Shepard's shoulder, she navigated through the heavy nebula that was Shepard's mind, past the static noise of bubbling emotions to view the bright, star-lit memories beside the woman she still loved._

_They were different people from the awkward, not-quite lovers who had parted on a strained note aboard the burning Normandy._

_And Liara had already accepted that—accepted that she was no longer the shy, naive archeologist Shepard had first met, that sometimes when she looked at herself in the mirror, all she could see were the ugly scars that marred her reflection, scars that she had earned, scars that marked her every wrongdoing, just underneath the surface of that smooth lapis lazuli skin. . ._

_She felt the touch of Shepard's warm hand around hers and left her momentary distraction._

_It was hard to describe what happened next when the sensory details were so rich and detailed and fleeting, the emotions so vibrant and visceral, so_ real _, and all she could do was capitulate to the patchwork of moments, to_ become _Shepard._

_And it frightened her. The amount of honesty Shepard had put into the shared memory, the trust lingering just underneath, the love like a bittersweet orange—_

_Liara shivered and pulled Shepard closer to her, burying her face against the soft, dark curls of her former lover. Her heart was heavy, and her guilt for pushing Shepard away poignant._

_But Shepard was not yet done._

_Hope sang inside Liara, a rising crescendo amidst the fresh images playing in her mind's eye. For every loss, a victory. For every downed companion, a chance to rise._

_Death._

_Rebirth._

_Redemption._

_A rush of heat bubbled inside Liara's chest, warm and comforting. Then, a stirring desire, an aching want at the pit of her stomach. Shepard's eyes were bright, the colour a silver, gun-metal shade, diamond threads interwoven across the darker grey backdrop. Eyes, Liara found, that shone with adoration._

_They kissed._

_Her lips were sweet and soft and enticing. Liara's hand cradled the back of Shepard's neck, her mouth hungrily seeking entrance. Desire blossomed across her chest, a forest fire that blazed through her insecurities and turned them into mere ashes._

_Shepard shivered against her._

_Then, she pulled away unexpectedly, almost breaking their mental connection in her haste. Liara's heart clenched in fear. Had she made a mistake again? Had she moved too fast? She saw the panic in Shepard's face, the sorrow, the guilt, washing over Liara, the emotions, like pikes driving through her chest, slow and torturous, making her unable to breath._

_The pain was replaced with the cool, healing gauze of apology, followed with another kiss initiated by the human Spectre. Liara breathed in her scent, dazed at the fluctuating emotions she was receiving from Shepard. A promise—that was what this kiss meant for Shepard—a promise that she would never leave Liara ever again._

" _I am yours." Shepard reiterated breathlessly once she had finally pulled away. Earnest eyes without a hint of deception._ Beautiful, _Liara thought, tracing Shepard's jaw line with an idle thumb. Her lover breathed sharply, emotion colouring her cheeks. "Forever."_

_Joyously, Liara laughed and left her workstation, pulling Shepard across the room. They ended up on the couch, their lips reacquainting themselves with each other once more. Liara could still detect some shyness in Shepard and slowed in her advances, though she was adamant that Shepard remained in her embrace._

_Curled against the other, legs intertwined, they basked in each other's presence, their troubles momentarily forgotten._

_The moment was more than perfect._

* * *

_"In other news, Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy has managed to. . ."_

Boo ignored the reporter's words and kept to the shadows of her room, his beady eyes darting back and forth, his nose twitching as he searched for the scent of his human. He'd caught a glimpse of her recently, but she had disappeared again—silly human. The Outside was a massive place, easy to get lost in. Why she kept leaving the confines of Home baffled him. Then again, he hadn't returned to his Home when the other two-leggers took over hers, bringing with them strange, sharp smells that made him cringe. He didn't leave his human's Home though. The others might have, but he was loyal to his human, and would never leave her side again—if she chose to make an appearance soon that is. Hunger made even the most stalwart space hamsters desperate.

He left the reporter's room through a hole he had discovered earlier and scurried for the moving platform before the male human could close it. Boo liked this human, who usually snuck food down to his work place. The human wasn't very neat and often left crumbs for Boo to eat. He was also always too preoccupied to notice Boo. The hamster could be tap-dancing in front of him, and he wouldn't even so much as glance at Boo's direction. He was a thinking human, Boo decided; someone who worked very hard and talked to himself a lot, just like his human. Boo's head drooped a little. He missed his human.

Boo watched the male human walk towards the crew's quarters, where he often loitered during his free time, reminiscing with the female human who had white hair. Boo didn't bother following the male human there however. There were simply too many humans in that room, and Boo didn't want to risk discovery; they might take him away from his human.

Boo wandered instead towards the kitchen unit of the area, almost squeaking in glee at the sight of food crumbs on the floor. He made his way towards the food and dragged it behind the counter before digging in. Several blissful moments later, he was on the move again, his search for his human seemingly endless.

He squeezed into a hole near the kitchen area and found himself in a new, unexplored room, familiar scents making him freeze in his tracks.

"Have you received word yet as to when Shepard might come back?"

"Feron says the geth are up to something but it's all hush-hush," another feminine voice answered.

"Coordinates to their current location, Oriana?"

Numbers and letters were exchanged, though the words were temporarily muffled by the thick, soft N7 hoodie over Boo's head as he burrowed his head against the dark cloth, basking in the scent of his human.

"She'll be back, Ma'am. She promised as much."

"...Have you been looking through my messages again?" There was a hint of playfulness in the question.

"It runs in the family, Ma'am." A sudden, dropped silence, and then: "I was hoping there would be some news about my sister. I'm sorry, Ma'am. If you like, I can upgrade your security—"

"No need, Oriana. I might as well be giving you a back door to my system."

"I would never _misuse_ it, Ma'am," the woman known as Oriana protested.

"But you'd _use_ it," was the amused rebuttal. "You need only to ask, my dear."

"Very well." The reply was sulky. If Boo had any knowledge of human body language, he would have probably imagined her pouting. As it was, he was too busy squirming underneath his human's jacket, giddy with his new discovery. "I'll be here if you need me, Shadow Broker. Lawson out."

Boo awoke to the sound of the door swishing, some minutes later, having fallen asleep in the safety of his human's hoodie. Crawling out from under it, he rested his head on his forelegs and watched as another asari entered the room—this one green. For now he was safe under his makeshift blanket, so he made no move to scamper away.

"You are already hard at work, Liara," the green one observed, lingering uncertainly by the doorway.

Liara regarded her elder quietly before retorting, "I like being busy."

"I can see that." A pause. "May I come in?"

"Of course." Boo retreated a little at the sight of the green one moving closer to the bed where he was hiding. "I see that you are already preparing your quarters for your bond-mate's return."

Liara laughed nervously. "Those are for me, actually."

"Oh?"

"I miss her," she confessed.

"I suppose with the distance, even you cannot mind-speak with her," was the disappointed reply.

Boo was growing hungry again. He wondered if the asari had some snacks lying around.

"Mind-speak? I-I thought that was a myth."

The green one smiled wryly. "Since when have myths ever stopped Commander Shepard?" In a more serious tone she said, "There _are_ records of mind-speakers among the asari, Liara. It is often a result of a very powerful bond between two life-mates. Forgive me; I had assumed that you could speak to her, since you had told me before that both of you were able to share emotions with each other even without a melding of the minds."

"You mean that isn't common, Shiala? I could do it before—with Mother."

"Well, mothers are often a special case," Shiala said easily, "because we have a direct genetic connection with them. With our partners, such a link is harder to establish. Most asari go through their entire lifetime never fully developing an empathy link with their bond-mates. You should count yourself lucky."

"I'm with Shepard. I already feel lucky."

"And I'm sure she feels the same way." Boo totally missed the underlying tension that came with that statement, having briefly fallen asleep a second time. "Are you worried about her?"

"We've had such little time together. . ."

Boo shared his sympathy with the asari. He too missed his human. She had very nice, warm hands.

"That is understandable." Shiala seemed to contemplate something before adding, "Perhaps you should try to strengthen your bond. I have also heard that it is possible to enter each others' dreams—" She forcibly cut herself off, her cheeks darkening in a deep viridian shade. "Ah, but perhaps those are just maiden fantasies of mine, when I once thought I could meet someone who could open herself to me so completely"—she grimaced—"and I would have my storybook ending."

"You still have plenty of years left, Shiala."

"Not with this war."

* * *

_". . .defeat a Reaper destroyer in Rannoch, the quarian home-world. Reports have confirmed. . ."_

Ezra Kovac, former Alliance Vanguard, switched the radio's frequency to her favourite station and adjusted her helmet one last time. The borrowed Scorpion was heavy against her hip. It wasn't as reassuring as the weight of her M-11 Wraith, but she needed the Scorpion more right now. It was good for . . . crowd control.

"Cerberus soldiers in five, Kovac." She grimaced at the sound of that slithery Australian accent—so motherfucking sexy and yet so bloody irritating at the same time. She pushed aside the frequent fantasies of shoving her mouth against those smug lips and took a deep breath. No good would come from entertaining such thoughts. No good would come from _acting_ upon such thoughts.

"Ready to kick some ass, Ezra?" Her turian companion asked tensely, his fingers wrapped tightly around the barrel of his Mantis. Damnit; that sounded weird in her head.

"I'm always ready," she snarled in her most confident tone. "The bastards will never know what hit them."

Janus snorted. "They usually don't if you're part of the equation."

"Stop being such a dork," she riposted and turned her attention towards the landing bay. The whole place was rigged with thin wires below the knee level. Land mines, courtesy of her partner, were half-hidden on the ground and on the walls. "Think this'll be enough?"

Janus, who was aware of similar traps set up in the other rooms, nodded solemnly. "Frankly, I think it's a bit of an overkill."

"Well, that's what I'm aiming for. I wouldn't want to under-kill them now, would I?" Ezra braced her hands against her hips and rolled the kinks out of her shoulders. Her armour kept her body warm and limber, ready for some light manoeuvring if needed be. Having trained in the Alliance-funded Vanguard program some years before, she knew the importance of being combat-ready at all times. Vanguards hit hard and fast, rarely staying in one place for more than a few seconds. Their bodies couldn't afford cool muscles which were more susceptible to injury, nor could they afford poor reaction times if they wanted to survive. By keeping her body warm, her armour helped regulate the pumping of her blood, and the contraction of her muscles. It also helped her spread the dark energy easily throughout her body so that she could compress herself better when she wanted to travel quickly from one enemy to another.

"'Under-kill?'" Janus repeated. "Only you would make up such a term."

"Says the turian who modified his Mantis so that he could shoot a man twice: once in the heart, the other in the head."

"I can't always be certain about the heart, you see," Janus defended. "Sometimes there's more than one."

"Cerberus incoming," their boss said sharply through the comm. link. "Keep them busy. I need more time to disable the security locks in their system."

"Aye, aye," Ezra muttered darkly. She gave Janus a nod before pulling the Scorpion from its magnetized holster. "Bring it, bitches."

Contrary to popular belief, there was a limit to how many times a Vanguard could charge biotically from one enemy to another. Using biotics expended a lot of energy, and Vanguards didn't have a lot despite their calorie intake. In fact, most human biotics kept some glucose tablets with them, in case they ran out of energy. Their bodies just weren't built to translate chemical energy into dark energy as efficiently as an asari's. But that didn't faze Ezra. Any who opposed her would be brought down to their knees. And failing that, she'd just fucking shoot their legs off. Simple.

She stood proudly on the second-floor railing, her feet perfectly balanced on the round metal handle. The slightest tremor could send her tumbling downwards but she didn't care. It was completely suicidal. Which suited her just fine.

Twenty-seven instances.

She compressed herself and used the dark energy coursing through her to lighten her body, the motions familiar to her. Slamming into a group of troopers hopping down on the LZ, she pointed the Scorpion at their feet while they were still imbalanced and left a trail of mini-grenades before charging towards another soldier.

Twenty-six.

She used the biotic charge's momentum to push a Guardian-class Cerberus backwards into a landmine before rolling out of harm's way, her sight already set on her next target. "Some Cerberus troopers have penetrated area D2," Janus warned her over the din of her favourite badass, elcor rap song—an admittedly guilty pleasure of hers.

"On it," she said. She grabbed the highest rung she could reach and lithely climbed up the ladder to the base's second floor. She slid past one of the room's natural covers and reloaded the Scorpion even as she searched for the incoming bastards. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she noticed a red laser beam passing by her briefly.

Twenty-five.

She slammed a biotically-charged fist against the Cerberus sniper's throat. Rolling forward to avoid the gunfire from the Nemesis's companions, she hesitated briefly before charging towards them, startling the Cerberus troopers.

Several more shots and five biotic-charges later, Ezra could already feel her adrenaline rush ebbing. "What's your status, Boss?"

"Slightly irritated, is what," the former Cerberus replied, her accent thickening slightly in anger. "Apparently, there are separate security locks for each of the Reaper devices in this damn station."

"I'll take that as a no then." Ezra slammed a fresh thermal clip in her Scorpion and slipped out of cover, luring some stragglers towards one of her tripwires. "I don't suppose you'll be finished before they start sending the big boys over, eh?"

"Not bloody likely."

"Any chance we can just blow this station up?"

"We don't have the equipment for it, Kovac. Now stop being cheeky with me. Don't you have a slew of Cerberus soldiers to entertain?"

"Two Atlases in A1, Ezra," Janus added helpfully.

"I suppose I do." Ezra adjusted her grip on the Scorpion, commanding her hands to stop shaking so _damn_ much. "You owe me for this, Boss."

"I'll buy you a big lunch when we get out of here, okay?" Their superior growled. "Now get to it! You're breaking my concentration."

"It's a date." Ezra chirped light-heartedly and cut the communication before the woman could think of an appropriate response. It was fun to get on her nerves, but she was still Ezra's boss, which meant that she was in charge of the Vanguard's paycheck. Ezra could risk being suicidal, sure, but she couldn't risk her only source of income right now. _Priorities_.

She snorted and exchanged her Scorpion for a dead Cerberus's M-358 Talon. It had the stopping power and spread of a shotgun, but it didn't have the finesse of her beloved Wraith. Plus, it just didn't feel _right_ in her hands. But, hey, what other option did she have? The Scorpion's grenades would detonate too slowly against the Atlases, and she needed something quicker, especially for what she had in mind.

"I'll need my backup for this one," she said as she stealthily made her way towards the two Atlases lumbering outside the Cerberus station. Despite their gargantuan sizes, the Atlases were built specifically to overcome certain hurdles. Ceiling too low for the Atlas to enter? Enough patience and manoeuvring, and you could get any Atlas inside a building, no problem. It's just all in the knees.

For Ezra, however, this meant fighting under time pressure. Take too long, and one of those Atlases might try hunting for another target, specifically one with a damn fine ass. _Because let's face it. We're not the trophy these men are looking for. For these bastards, the priority is to eliminate_ her _, not us._ That meant she needed to take them down quickly if she wanted to make sure that neither of them tried to attack her boss. Not that the fucking woman couldn't take care of herself. But hey, Ezra was getting paid for this, and she had her fucking professional pride. There was no way she'd let anyone get past the fucking Kovac barricade, if she could help it.

"The great, invincible Vanguard? Asking this lowly turian for help?"

"Do you want that Mantis shoved up your ass, kid? Because I'm more than open to the idea."

There was a pause from the other line. "Noted. Where do you need me?"

"I need you to watch the other entrance. I'll be busy playing tag,"—Ezra peered behind her cover and saw the two Atlases near a Cerberus shuttle—"and if my guess is correct, those damn mechs are just a distraction for me. Think you can handle it, kid? That's an awful lot of headshots, you'll be doing."

"Please. It's like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Brushing up on your human idioms I see." Ezra rolled out of cover and charged towards the Atlas facing her. She landed on top of Atlas 1 and began emptying her Talon's clip on the orange-tinted glass. "Keep the boss safe, Janus."

"Will do."

The Atlas twisted its body in vain, trying to shake her off. She clung to one of its elevated shoulder-guards and waited until the other mech saw her. "You're it." She muttered.

Seventeen instances left.

She landed atop Atlas 2 just as the rocket slammed against Atlas 1's body, breaking the canopy. She could hear muffled cursing from the Cerberus operating the second Atlas and grinned viciously. Angry at the unintended attack, the first Atlas pointed its claw at Ezra's direction and swung, hitting the other Atlas squarely across its orange canopy. By then, Ezra was already balancing herself on the other Atlas's shoulder, her Talon aimed towards the Cerberus's head. She pulled the dead soldier's body off of the seat and retracted the Atlas's clawed hand just as she slid into the cockpit.

The Atlas was an awkward, lumbering beast—not Ezra's style at all—but it did let her take care of the other Atlas faster with a few, well-placed missiles. Her Atlas's body shuddered from the proximity impact of exploding shrapnel, though thankfully, it hadn't given way just yet. Impatiently, she brought the Atlas towards the first-floor entrance to the Cerberus building. She jumped out of the mech and squeezed past one of its legs, wishing she had time to set some traps for anyone hoping to get through.

She almost ran into a Phantom.

Ezra cursed and jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the Phantom's swinging blade. Phantoms were known for their close-quarters combat and devastating attacks with a sword, as well as their evasive manoeuvring. Basically, they were a nightmare for most Vanguards, particularly the ones stubborn enough to continue attacking them within the proximity of their attacks.

Like that would stop her from trying. She used another biotic charge to close the distance between her and a Cerberus trooper just behind the Phantom. She finished the trooper off with a shot before turning her attention towards the Phantom, who was already staring back at her.

Right. Playing human pinball with this Phantom wasn't going to work.

Ezra stripped herself of her biotic shields to release a shockwave of dark energy, stunning the Phantom briefly. She used another instance of her biotic charge to knock the Phantom off her feet and was ready to shoot the Phantom's head off when she felt a bullet ripping through her right shoulder. Like an animal in panic, she charged away from the Phantom, her shoulder screaming in pain from the sudden movement. "Damn Nemesis," she muttered under her breath. She turned on the comm. channel. "What's your status, Janus?"

"Running low from thermal clips, but otherwise in fine condition," the turian drawled triumphantly.

"And Lawson?" Ezra asked, feeling the anaesthetic being administered by her armour. She discarded the Talon and took a peek from behind her cover. No one so far. Good.

"I'm fine, Kovac," the bitchy Australian answered in her most _reassuring_ tone.

For a brief moment, Ezra considered telling them about the shoulder—considered telling them that she was out of the fight for the time being—but the moment passed quickly. There were still some things she could do. She just hadn't figured it out yet.

She ducked out of cover and shouted at a handful of Cerberus soldiers heading for another room. "Hey, bitches, ain't you getting tired of being Timmy's lapdogs?" she asked, using the favoured nickname for the head of the Cerberus organization.

"What the hell are you doing, Kovac?" Lawson snapped.

Ezra patted her rump at the soldiers and took off. "Being a big damn hero, Ma'am."

* * *

" _. . .the Reaper's exoskeleton is their main weakness. Alliance strategists are collaborating with other xeno-military personnel. . ."_

Kaidan took his eyes off the news article and smiled at the approaching drell. Thane moved gracefully across the ever-growing crowd within Huerta's main lobby, gently apologizing as a child bumped into him and respectfully letting his elders pass, a slight tilt in his head in a show of respect. He was a nice friend, and a good companion. Being around him, Kaidan could almost forget that there was a war happening just outside the Citadel's reinforced walls.

_Almost._

His hand reflexively went to the base of his skull, brushing against the skin where his implant used to be. It was strange, not having the familiar weight of the implant there, nor the slight rush of dark energy across his veins. It was also strange, being trapped inside this glass bubble while the rest of the galaxy was going up in flames.

Not literally of course. But sometimes it felt like that to him. And more than anything, he wished he was aboard the Normandy again, fighting side by side with Commander Shepard and her crew. Perhaps then, he could make amends for all the things he had said back on Mars. Back on Horizon.

Perhaps things would be better between them again.

"It is good to see you out and about, Major," Thane said as he took the seat opposite Kaidan's. "If your doctor approves, maybe we can do some light calisthenics later."

"I'd like that," Kaidan admitted. "And you? How are your lungs?"

Thane took a deep breath and spread his arms, smiling broadly as he exhaled. "Better than ever. Truly it is a miracle that I am still alive today."

Kaidan smiled back, sharing in his pleasure.

It really was amazing, what technology could accomplish these days.

"I don't suppose you could get me out of this place?" he asked jokingly after a moment's pause. "I'm beginning to feel a little restless."

"I guess that depends," Thane replied, leaning forward, bracing his elbows against his thighs. "What were you thinking of doing?"

Kaidan didn't have a clear answer to that. It just seemed so unfair that he was stuck in Huerta Memorial Hospital, unable to do anything, while Shepard and the rest of the crew were out there saving the galaxy again. Couldn't he do his share of saving too?

Thane, of course, had an answer for everything.

Since both of them were amiable creatures who could put others at ease, the Huerta Memorial staff had given them the task of manning the information desk in the main lobby. With more and more patients coming in, they needed all of the trained staff they could get, and neither Kaidan nor Thane were properly qualified to help in dire situations. Both of them had some basic field knowledge, but it just wasn't enough. That, and Kaidan's doctor was adamant that he be given _light_ work. Lugging around medical equipment was apparently a little too _heavy_.

Kaidan took a deep breath and counted to seven before turning to the next woman in line. The aging colonist was a bit of a xenophobe and had refused to speak with Thane, waiting in turn to talk to Kaidan instead. She wished to see her son, who was currently being operated on and could not receive visitors at the moment. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I can't let you visit your son for now. Our doctors are very busy people, and if you go to his room, you will only get in their way. Please be patient for his sake."

"If you give us your omni-tool's ID, we can contact you once more news of your son becomes available," Thane added helpfully in his most soothing voice, his body pressing closely against Kaidan's shorter, stockier frame so that he can lean forward to give the colonist an encouraging smile.

The colonist predictably ignored him. "Ma'am, if you'll give me your omni-tool's ID," Kaidan began, feeling a bit redundant, "we'll alert you of any new changes concerning your son's condition."

After the woman had left, Kaidan shyly glanced at his companion. "I'm sorry to say that not all of humanity is accepting of other species," he whispered softly after adding the old woman's omni-tool ID in the hospital's main database. He felt Thane straighten up, though the drell made no move to lengthen the gap between them. Kaidan gulped and put on his most polite expression, his heart fluttering a little at the scent of forest rain after a heavy storm. "I was hoping that this war could draw all of us together, but I was wrong."

"Some of them just need more time," Thane said, giving his companion a warm, side-long glance. "Not all of them have had the opportunity to travel with the first human Spectre and saviour of the galaxy. Not all of them have been graced with such a broad and unique perspective of the world."

"You make it sound like I'm special," Kaidan said, chuckling a little. "But really, I'm not. Tali, Garrus—hell, even Liara—did more for the commander than I ever could. And all because that 'broad and unique perspective' that you spoke so highly of was, in reality, actually pretty damn narrow in comparison to theirs."

"I sense that there is more to that statement than you wish to let on."

Kaidan turned to give Thane a pleading look in the hopes of getting him to drop the subject, but he was distracted by the proximity of Thane's face to his. So many different shades of green. . .

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Udina said snidely from the other side of the counter.

"Not at all," Kaidan stuttered and cleared his throat, finally managing to tear his gaze away from those soft, brown eyes. "Is there anything that I can do for you, Councillor Udina?"

The balding man stood up straighter and raised his chin, his hands clasped behind his back. "If you are not too busy, I'd like to speak to you privately, Major Alenko."

"Well,"—Kaidan shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other—"what were you hoping to discuss with me, sir?"

"I would rather not disclose it so publicly," Udina said coldly. Kaidan had a feeling that he was referring to Thane who was watching the exchange curiously. "It concerns a certain position I'd like you to fill."

"You want me to be the second human Spectre," Kaidan declared incredulously. At Udina's raised eyebrow, he clarified, "W-what else could it be? I'm not exactly part of C-Sec, so it's not like you're here for a promotion. . ." he trailed off and felt Thane's warm palm pressing against the curve of his back.

Udina pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Yes, Kaidan. The position is yours if you so desire."

* * *

" _. . .tailoring their plan of attacks with this new information. . ."_

"You like that kind of woman, Rodriguez?" Jack sneered, watching the vid from her subordinate's shoulder.

Ensign Rodriguez almost jumped up from the sudden comment and blushed furiously. "Hell no! I'm not a h-homosexual, Ma'am," she protested. "Besides, have you _seen_ Allers? Ugh. I'd rather kiss a space cow."

"That can be arranged." Jack smirked and closed the private terminal, hearing audible groans from both Rodriguez and Prangley who were watching Battlespace on it. She ignored their grumblings and turned to look at their shuttle pilot. "Your partner's information better be good this time, boy."

"Octavia managed to hack into some Cerberus security here in Sanctum. Said she saw your friend, Miranda Lawson, in one of the security feeds. She's here," the pilot hesitated and glanced at Jack. "Ma'am," he mumbled belatedly.

Jack ignored the tiny note of dissent in the kid's voice. He was a Grissom student too, but he wasn't in her biotics class, so it was understandable that he didn't feel inclined to follow her. That, and she'd been questioning their abilities for the last few weeks, after failing to find the elusive bitch again and again all over various Cerberus bases.

"Fuck you, Shepard, for making me play detective to your fucking XO," she grumbled under her breath and opened the shuttle door. Her students squeaked and moved further away from her, even as she leaned against the door frame and watched the night sky with tired eyes. This place really was fucking cold as hell. . .

Smoke rose from a nearby compound, catching her attention. "Hey, kid, bring the shuttle to that docking station over there," she commanded, excitement flooding her veins. Were they finally going to get some action tonight? She hoped so. She loved her kids dearly, but they were like fragile snow globes, all 'handle with care' and none of that battle-hardened readiness that she was used to working with. She couldn't even train against them seriously, lest she break a bone or three. God, had Shepard really spoiled her that much?

Well, fuck that.

You can't make omelettes without breaking a few eggs, and these kids were hardier than they looked.

At least, she sincerely hoped they were.

She dropped down on the landing pad, M-6 Carnifex in hand, her eyes darting back and forth as she assessed the scene before her. An empty Atlas stood vigilant in one entrance, leaving very little room for anyone to slip through. The other had a mound of dead bodies nearby, probably from a good marksman who had camped in one place for a while. "Prangley, Rodriguez, I want you two to go through the other entrance and report everything you see to me," Jack spoke coolly. "Remember, barriers first, shoot later. I didn't train you to be damn superheroes. Biotics don't make you fucking invulnerable. Cover is _essential_ , you got that?"

"Yes, _Mother_ ," Prangley drawled and rolled his eyes. "We'll stay safe."

"Good; otherwise, Momma dearest is gonna give you the worst spanking you've ever gotten, kid," Jack snarled, waving both eyebrows lewdly. Her subordinate predictably blushed. Cackling, she called forth her reservoir of dark energy and flung the Atlas aside like a rag doll. "Catch you later, brats."

She shot the approaching Phantom without a moment's pause, using her biotics to wear down the enemy's shields just before the bullet hit the Phantom squarely on the forehead. Her mouth twisted into a feral grin. "Let's roll."

Despite the promise of battle in the air, Jack's bloodlust remained unfulfilled. The corridor was empty of Cerberus soldiers, save the dead ones, and the sound of gunfire was still a bit far. Her two students had similar reports, finding only a few stragglers who were easily dispatched. Frustrated at the lack of action from her side, Jack almost stepped on a landmine hiding inconspicuously beside a terminal. She took a step back and heard the sound of running feet from behind. Readying a fistful of dark energy in one hand, Jack twisted her head slightly and saw a soldier in darkened grey armour running towards her, the Alliance symbol visibly scratched against the soldier's breastplate. Behind her was a trail of Cerberus troopers running towards her and opening fire.

Jack cursed and used her biotics to lighten her body as she jumped aside, landing a few metres away from the approaching whirlwind of dark energy and gunfire. Seeing the ex-Alliance soldier appear where Jack had previously stood confirmed her suspicion: the woman was a Vanguard.

Who had just stepped on the landmine.

"Fuck," Jack cursed under her breath and ducked behind a terminal, bracing herself for the explosion. It came later then she expected. Peering from the side of the L-shaped workstation, she saw the Vanguard at the bottom of the slight incline, breathing heavily from the strain.

She had just led those troopers into a landmine. Jack had to admit, it was pretty damn brilliant.

It was also pretty damn suicidal.

The Vanguard must have noticed her, because she was gathering dark energy around her body again. Before Jack could say something to assuage the other woman, she was already charging towards her. So Jack reacted accordingly: she brought up a barrier and jumped backwards in a reverse roll.

The collision of two foreign dark energies caused an explosion, sending the Vanguard flying. She slammed against a wall and fell forward gracelessly, blood from her shoulder pooling underneath. Jack cursed a second time and ran towards the former Alliance, gently rolling her body to assess the situation.

The Vanguard was still alive. _Good._ Unfortunately, slamming her against the wall must have turned off some of its primary functions, because it stopped putting pressure on the Vanguard's wound, which meant that Jack had to find some way to bandage the wound properly without the aid of the chest plate. She took off the Vanguard's helmet, revealing sweaty matted hair clinging against a wide forehead and half-closed eyes. "You ain't gettin' anything outta me, Cerb scum," the woman muttered in between short, ragged gasps.

Jack had to give her points for being loyal where it counted.

She took the earpiece from the barely conscious Vanguard and used it to replace the standard issue headset she wore. "Hey, Cheerleader, you there?" Jack asked as she continued to work on removing the woman's upper body armour.

There was a period of silence. Then, "Jack, under different circumstances, I might have felt exasperation upon hearing your voice. But I'm glad you're here."

"Bullshit. I can hear the note of exasperation clearly in your tone," Jack riposted. She tore several pieces of clothing from the woman's sleeveless shirt, leaving just enough for the sake of decency, and used the torn-up strips to bandage the bleeding shoulder. "Anyway, no time to play games with you, Princess. One of yours is badly injured, and I'm taking her back to the shuttle for proper treatment."

Hopefully, their pilot knew a little first aid.

"Ezra's down?" The sigh was barely audible through their comm. link. "Very well. I believe she would be safer around you anyway—that daft chit and her suicidal antics."

"So where the hell are you, anyway?" Jack demanded, bitterly ignoring the concern present in Miranda's voice. "Because I ain't fucking leaving here without you."

"My hero," Miranda drawled ironically. "Since when have you cared about me, Jack? Why are you even looking for me?"

"Who else would force me to perform acts of altruism on a regular basis?" Jack snorted and shook her head. "Shepard needs you."

"No, she doesn't. I used to be a high-ranking Cerberus official, Jack. That means I'm a target—"

"So is Shepard," Jack pointed out. She lifted the Vanguard onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry and grunted. "But she isn't running away like you are. 'S far as I can tell, she's working hard doing important shit to stop those damn motherfuckers from destroying _our_ galaxy."

"Are you saying what I'm doing is insignificant?"

"I'm saying that you have no excuse not to come back with me." Jack paused, a few feet away from their shuttle. A bloodied and bruised turian stood threateningly before her, an M-92 Mantis in one hand. "That, and your sister is working for her girlfriend, the Shadow Broker."

"God- _damnit,_ Shepard," Miranda hissed.

"Awesome," Jack said faux-cheerfully. "Now call off your turian, and get your fine ass down here immediately."

* * *

" _. . .this galaxy might just stand a chance against the Reapers."_

The mood was considerably lighter in the Citadel since the vids had come out. The first human Spectre had done the impossible again and had killed a Reaper with the help of the quarian armada. Soldiers were celebrating in drunken revelry, children were asking for Commander Shepard figurines, and the civilians were momentarily assuaged for the time being, despite the influx of refugees clogging up the Citadel. The few quarians still in the Citadel were quite delighted to find that they had become the heroes of the hour, having been credited heavily in those same vids.

If only Shepard's actions had a more positive effect on the Council. True, the number of complaints had gone down since then, and more independent merchant industries were willing to put their money towards the war effort, but two of the four Councillors remained unimpressed despite the Citadel's growing opinion of their human Spectre. The salarian Councillor seemed preoccupied about something and was not willing to share. The asari, on the other hand, was still smarting over the dressing down she had received from Shepard's subordinate.

Since Udina was too busy amassing financial support for the Alliance and organizing rescue missions for their outlying colonies, it fell on Sparatus to do something concerning his fellow colleagues. After all, despite their differences, Shepard had still aided Sparatus in retrieving the Primarch. He was merely repaying a favour.

He hadn't counted on seeing a mostly naked Tevos underneath another asari when he entered the Councillor's office to speak his mind. Beating a hasty retreat, he pressed his body against the wall to the door's right and cringed as he heard it swish shut beside him. By the Spirits, if Tevos discovered that he had seen her having sex with another asari she would have his hide! Sliding numbly on the floor, he uncorked the bottle of wine he was supposed to give to Tevos and drank greedily from it—anything to get his mind off that deep violet shade, those heaving—

He took another swig and set the bottle down with great care. "Next time, Tevos, keep your damn door shut," he muttered, his dual tones in dissonance. "Or you know," he mumbled, blinking sluggishly, "send an invitation sometime."

He stared off into the distance for a few minutes, eyes unfocused, the dull silence helping to ease his uncomfortable arousal. When he felt a little bit better, he climbed to his feet and took a moment to collect himself.

"Are you decent?" Sparatus spoke neutrally through the closed door.

"Not really," a voice that was decidedly not Tevos answered through the door, followed by a muffled protest.

Sparatus sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well I'm coming in." He counted to ten for the sake of Tevos's privacy before he entered a second time.

"You saw us?" Tevos squeaked indignantly from behind her desk, this time _thankfully_ clothed. Her lover, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall behind the asari Councillor, a predatory smirk on her face.

"You weren't very, ah, careful with your door's security, Councillor," Sparatus said stiffly. He placed the bottle of wine on Tevos's desk and tilted his head politely. "A gift from Matriarch Aethyta's stock. I apologize for ah, imbibing some of it. I was not in my right mind."

"I can just imagine," the purple-skinned asari leered. "Anyway, I better go." She leaned forward and licked the side of Tevos's neck seductively, whispering, "This isn't over, Tevos. I'll make you my bitch yet."

Sparatus had the forethought to remain silent, moving instead to sit on the chair opposite the asari's. Keeping his expression blank, he fought the urge to look at her desk and recall the previous events that transpired there.

"So, what is it that you want from me, Sparatus?" Tevos asked bluntly, eyes cold, hands flexing threateningly.

"You're not going to flay me with your mind, are you?" At Tevos's glare, Sparatus raised both hands in surrender. "I was hoping to talk to you concerning your recent spat with Shepard's second-in-command actually."

"What about my recent _spat_?"

He hesitated. Initially, he had planned to be aggressive and confront her on her decision to withdraw the asari representative for the War Summit. However, given Tevos's current temperament, it was unlikely that he would get anywhere if he continued to agitate her. "Councillor Tevos, tell me, what is your opinion on the krogan joining the War Summit?"

"It will likely end in bloodshed."

Sparatus's mandibles quivered in exasperation. Bracing his elbows against his knees, his fingers interlaced, he stared at those hazel eyes evenly. "And what message are you hoping to send by refusing Shepard's crew a representative?" Tevos opened her mouth to reply but he sharply cut her off. "That you disapprove of my primarch's proposition?"

"I'm simply washing my hands of an affair doomed to failure."

"Is that what you truly believe, Councillor Tevos?" Sparatus asked softly. "The asari are known, _well-known_ , for their aptitude for diplomacy. If not for your people, perhaps we would have annihilated the human race or vice-versa. In fact, if there was anyone who was most likely to try and bridge a peace between the krogans, the salarians, and the turians, I was sure that it would be the asari. And I was sure that you would be in the forefront of that."

"You are asking me to do the impossible," Tevos protested.

"I am asking you to give Shepard another chance," Sparatus growled. He stood up abruptly and began to pace. "It is too late for you to send a representative to the summit now, but you could still show them your support."

"The asari Republic—"

"The asari Republic can be convinced _later_. For now, all that I ask is a majority in the Council. If we could have that, Shepard will have more resources to build her super-weapon. Then perhaps we might have a chance to win this war after all."

"Do you really believe that she is the answer to the Reaper problem?"

"I believe that she is an icon worth taking advantage of." Sparatus bowed his head in sorrow. "I have seen the Reapers in action, Tevos, and I have seen what their power can do to our people. Without Shepard, there is no hope. And without hope, our people will have no will to fight."

"And if she fails?"

"Do you really think your people could do any better, Tevos?" He slowly shook his head. "I once held that assumption. Now? I am not so sure. The Reapers are a race full of behemoths, Councillor, and they will crush us if we do not stand together. Unless your government is secretly building a super-weapon as well, I suggest you rethink your decision soon. I will not have our galaxy fall because of petty differences."

"The krogan-turian-salarian animosity is hardly petty, Councillor Sparatus."

The turian laughed bitterly. "I was referring to your spat with Benezia's daughter, Councillor Tevos." Mirthless eyes appraised the seated asari. "Or have you forgotten?"

Tevos looked away. "Very well, Councillor Sparatus. I shall consider your argument and rethink my position. Was there anything else?"

Sparatus sat eagerly in front of his colleague, some warmth present in his visage once more. "So, Aria T'Loak, huh?"

Hanging upside down from a well-placed Singularity, Sparatus sighed and watched Tevos's retreating form. Whatever happened to that famous asari diplomacy? Oh well. At least he got to see Tevos blush.


	8. A Leap of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the delay of this chapter (due to IRL shenanigans and so on). I can't say that it won't happen again, since Fall semester is about to begin, but I will try to update when I can. For posting progress updates, I'll just use my twitter account (space_zeppelin). It's just easier that way. I'll use tumblr for pics instead.
> 
> Also, hoping to read the ME books in between writing. They probably won't affect the plot a lot, but I'll try to incorporate them when I can.
> 
> Oh! And special thanks to my lady, Shine, who beta'd this chapter and gave me some advice on fighting a bigger, heavier opponent.

**Chapter Seven – A Leap of Faith**

_Shadows danced across a hideous visage that stared casually at them, while dim blue lights gleamed across a triangular maw riddled with fangs, making the tall figure behind the desk appear even more sinister. He turned off the screens hovering before him and leaned forward, the slight shift revealing fin-like protrusions on either side of his face. Two pairs of eyes appraised Commander Shepard and her ground team nonchalantly. "Here for the drell? Reckless, even for you, Commander."_

" _That bombing on Illium wasn't exactly subtle," Shepard rebuked, her right hand tightening around the Carnifex's grip._

" _Extreme, but necessary."_

" _No it wasn't!" Liara interjected. "Neither was caging Feron for two years."_

_Shepard stiffened slightly at the mention of the drell's name, catching the yahg's attention. "Tell me, Commander Shepard. What is your stake in all of this?"_

" _I'm repaying a debt," she snarled. "Now be smart and let Feron walk out with us."_

" _You won't be walking out at all," he stated simply._

" _You're quite confident for someone with nowhere left to hide," Liara retorted._

_He ignored the underlying threat in her tone, focusing instead on their other companion. "You travel with fascinating companions, Doctor. I'm actually quite pleased you brought Archangel with you. Your friend's bounty is still unclaimed."_

_Shepard wanted to speak, wanted to step in front of Garrus and threaten the infuriating yahg, but she knew that this was Liara's fight more than hers, and remained silent._

" _You're not putting a hand on anyone!"_

" _It's pointless to challenge me, asari. I know your every secret, while you fumble in the dark." His smile widened. "And I know all of hers," he added, gesturing at Shepard._

" _Is that right?" Liara challenged. "You're a yahg, a pre-spaceflight species quarantined to their home-world for massacring the Council's first contact teams. This base is older than your planet's discovery, which probably means you_ killed _the original Shadow Broker sixty years ago, then took over. I'm guessing you were taken from your world by a trophy hunter who wanted a slave . . . or a pet. How am doing?"_

_Slowly, the yahg stood up from his seat behind the semi-circular desk, reaching his full height which was a little over nine feet. He struck the desk with an angry roar, picking up a chunk of the rubble and throwing it at their general direction._

_Fear jolted Shepard into action. She grabbed Liara by her waist and threw them both to the side, landing painfully on the floor, just a few paces away from the ensuing wreckage._

" _Garrus!" Shepard croaked, scrambling to her feet. She moved towards him, tugging away at the debris on top of her friend. Once she was certain that the turian could breathe easier without the extra weight on his chest, she ducked behind one of the support columns within the Shadow Broker's Intel Centre._

_Liara was positioned a few metres away, sending the occasional fistful of dark energy in between heavy bursts of gunfire. Shepard knew she would not last long without an ammunition box nearby. Soon, Liara would have to exchange her submachine gun for her secondary weapon, which would make it harder to kill the yahg with his armoured skin._

_She summoned a Combat Drone to her side and directed it towards the yahg with instructions to damage his shields by using a less powerful electric shock. It predictably made the yahg frustrated, prompting him to try and swat the drone away. Shepard took that time to modify her Carnifex's ammo, switching to disruptor rounds which would effectively eat away at the yahg's shields. She caught Liara's eye and offered the asari a reassuring smile._

_And then she was off, running across the room, bracing her right hand against her left as she emptied an entire magazine at the Shadow Broker._

" _Don't think you can take me down with your inferior weapons," the yahg roared, pointing his assault rifle at Shepard's direction._

" _It's not the quality of your weapons that win a war." Shepard riposted, sending a blast of cold at yahg's lower extremities. "It's how you use them!"_

_Liara switched to her secondary weapon, a modified Phalanx Shepard had given her which allowed her to shoot warp rounds at the yahg, significantly damaging his armour. With a war cry, the yahg charged towards the asari, grabbing her by the neck just as he activated his omni-shield and batted away the drone following him._

" _Let go of her!" Shepard shouted, equally angry. She left the safety of her cover and dodged the barrage of bullets he sent her way. Quickly moving past his defences, she grabbed his left arm and sent a stream of fire around his wrist, which licked hungrily around his forearm. She curled her free hand into a fist and slammed it twice against the yahg's chin, sending an explosion of pain across her arm. Her shoulder throbbed from the impact, forcing her to take a few steps back. Liara had fallen to the floor during that time and was struggling to get away from the enraged Shadow Broker._

" _Shepard," Liara called from behind a pillar. The injured tech specialist staggered towards her, summoning another drone to keep the Broker preoccupied._

" _What is it?"—she grimaced, nursing her left shoulder—"Are you okay, Liara?"_

" _I'm fine." She touched Shepard's hand tenderly before quickly pulling away to point at the source of light from above. "I think if you can lure him just underneath it, we can use that against him."_

_The commander grinned back. "I knew there was a reason why I fell in love with you."_

_An awkward pause fell over them, making both of them glance away. Heart in her throat, Shepard gave Liara a curt nod before running towards the next nearest cover, her eyes trained at the Shadow Broker. She used her omni-tool to send more bolts of electricity at him, taking his attention away from the dying Combat Drone. She ran towards him and slid underneath his hulking figure, moving past him to hide behind a pillar opposite Liara's. With another threat escaping his triangular lips, he prepared to charge towards Shepard's position when Liara threw a sphere of dark energy at the glowing light above. With a violent tug from Liara, the container broke, spilling liquid fire that burned away the yahg's skin, vaporizing him entirely after a few seconds of exposure. The explosion that came after knocked Shepard to the ground, slamming her injured arm against the floor. The commander almost blacked out, reeling from the shock of the blast. Only Liara's voice kept her from falling out of consciousness entirely._

" _Are you alright?" Liara asked, cradling Shepard's limp body carefully._

_Still catching her breath, Shepard hummed her content, pressing her face against Liara's chest near her collarbone, the asari's unique scent calming her._

" _Shepard!"_

_She lifted her head a little, meeting Liara's gaze squarely. With trembling fingers, she caressed Liara's lips, ignoring the pain shooting through her left wrist. "I did good, right?"_

_Liara pulled her closer, revelling in her commander's touch, tears sliding down her cheeks. She kissed the woman's fingertips, before answering in a hoarse voice, "Yes, yes you did. Thank you, Shepard."_

* * *

The mad god stirred restlessly from within, dark tentacles caressing the surface of her thoughts, leaving a trail of rippling rage in their wake. Martinez dumped the last of the bodies inside the Cerberus shuttle and hastily stepped away, a lump forming in her throat. The citizens of Benning gone. So much blood on her hands. So much death.

She inhaled sharply.

Teams of three were running across the small residential sector, armed with portable water tanks to wash away the blood on the streets. Some corpses were left where they were as props for the Illusive Man's elaborate trap. Others were stripping the citizens of their clothes to be reused by Cerberus troopers.

"Hey, Martinez," her superior shouted from one of the open outposts just outside the city centre. She walked briskly towards him and saluted without a moment's pause, bracing herself for the momentary strangling sensation as her ancient host bristled at the presence of another ancient corroding her superior's mind. "Think you can do a good impression of a desperate civilian looking for help?" he drawled easily, bracing his gauntleted hands against his hips.

She resisted the urge to make a face. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I am a horrible actor. What you ask of me is too much."

"Oh?" Her superior didn't seem convinced. For a moment, she wondered if he had figured out her secret—if he had realized yet that she was a plant. "I don't know, Martinez. You seem to be doing a good job right now."

She froze, wild eyes turning to stare at the taller, bulkier man in shock.

He must have interpreted her panic as indignation because he chuckled. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're shy. I was just trying to boost your self-esteem a little. I see you don't like being teased. Carry on, soldier." He clapped her back and pushed her forward, before looking for another subordinate to take her place. Relief flooding her veins, she relaxed visibly and stalked towards one of her other companions, a silent prayer on her lips that her false identity would hold out for a while longer.

There was still much to be done.

Inside, the dark god curled its many tentacles, tucking them underneath its humungous, heaving body, and went back to sleep.

* * *

Aboard the geth ship, there were no windows.

Shepard's breathing was slow, her countenance completely at ease as she strode purposefully across the quiet hallway, heading towards the ship's main chamber where Legion awaited. The geth had gone ahead to set up the equipment needed to upload Shepard's personality into the geth mainframe, and could not escort them there. Fortunately for them, the geth dreadnought had quarian roots in its design and could be easily navigated by Tali, who was now walking ahead, wringing her hands nervously. Behind them, Kasumi followed, her hood hiding her troubled expression.

Despite her outward appearance, Shepard worried just as they did.

Plugging into the geth system had too many unknown variables. Shepard's body would be vulnerable during the upload, and her mind might not be the same after entering the geth construct. Legion had shown her parts of the construct's code and had assured her that the geth would make the experience as pleasant as possible for non-synthetics. Still, the fear was present. It wasn't just because she was taking a leap of faith, trusting the geth who bore her N7 insignia, which went against her instinct as an engineer. It wasn't just because of the paranoia that came with using tech that she was unfamiliar with. It wasn't just because she feared that the construct would somehow alter her.

The fear was there because it alienated her. It reminded her that she was not fully organic anymore, that her body was just a machine as well, a container built by Cerberus scientists to host the individual known as Jules Shepard. Was she still who she thought she was? Or was she just a very complex AI programmed to think she was Commander Shepard?

What if she returned to the real world, only to find herself occupying a geth body?

She shoved aside the sheer terror that came with that one thought, her gaze intensifying as she concentrated on the back of Tali's hood. She emptied her mind as she allowed herself to get lost in the swirling patterns, thinking of fractals and mathematical patterns, which soothed her a little.

They rounded a corner and halted in front of the entrance to the main chamber where two Geth Primes lumbered, their red armour glinting dully in the dim ship light. Dust motes flitted just underneath the Primes' triad of coloured lights, like companion fireflies to these two behemoths. They saluted—a human gesture of respect—and stepped aside, their forearms tucked behind their backs, their feet in parade rest.

Kasumi touched Shepard's elbow lightly. "They're mimicking human behaviour."

Shepard nodded at the two Geth Primes and walked past them, seemingly unfazed. "I know."

Tali must have caught on because she had also turned to look at Shepard, concern evident in her tone. "Shepard, I wouldn't trust them just because of this. They're trying to gain your favour by acting human."

"And why shouldn't they?" Shepard asked quietly, giving her subordinate a sideward frown. "They are the ambassadors of their people. Of course they are trying to gain our favour. They're doing this because they want to become our equals not"—she glanced away—"our enemies."

Legion, who had been working on a clump of wires behind an oblong-shaped pod, stood up to salute the commander. "Shepard-Commander is correct. Today, we will participate in an exchange of the cultures: mine and hers. We wish to honour Shepard-Commander by adopting some of her people's mannerisms. We hope we have not offended you, Shepard-Commander."

Shepard simply inclined her head. Inwardly, she was a little disturbed by their attempts at diplomacy. How did you tell that a geth's intentions were genuine? Even an elcor had a face, and they were certainly forthright with their feelings on a particular matter. Was everything just as clear-cut with the geth?

But she had picked a side, and she was not so fickle that she would turn her back on them now when they needed her. It wouldn't be right. John would have said that she had made the right decision.

And that was enough for her.

Maintaining the facade of confidence, she silently watched the pod's door slide open for her. The inside was warm, and dry—properly ventilated much to Shepard's relief. However, it was also confining, and too narrow to accommodate her somewhat bulky armour. She took a moment to release the straps around her wrists, taking off her N7 gauntlets and setting them aside before quickly removing her shoulder and chest plates with admirable efficiency. She ignored the feeble protests from her two companions and tried not to flinch when the pod door clicked shut, effectively trapping her inside. Now she was completely vulnerable.

She flexed her hands, grateful for the weight of the twin omni-tools on either palm, the one piece of armour she could not part with. Outside, Kasumi and Tali anxiously peered into the pod, their hands brushing against the surface of the pod's tinted glass. She gave them a reassuring smile.

"We will see you on the other side, Shepard-Commander," Legion intoned. "Please do not be alarmed."

"What do you—?"

Something sharp and spindly pricked the back of her neck, making her grimace. Then, her entire world went black.

_Animal terror grips her chest as she struggles to comprehend the engulfing darkness. Her skin is a tactile surface from which she tries to gain some understanding of the world. Electricity pulses through her body_ _—_ _tries to communicate with her but fails. Alien voices quibble close by but are muted and incomprehensible._

_She floats._

_Slowly her vision returns, though the white static noise keeps her from truly seeing. She tries to lash out, to reach for some comforting familiarity, but it is hard to return to what once was when some unknown force propels her forward to what will be._

"Someday, you'll understand."

_She recognizes the voice and her heart aches with sorrow._

"They're monsters, John! Look at what they did to you. Someone has to—"

"That someone doesn't have to be you!"

_Such anger. She closes her eyes and feels the ghost-grip of his hand on her arm. It is odd that his touch seems so real, so powerful; almost as if he is truly there._

_She opens her eyes._

Mindoir's sunlight was harsh against her skin, so unlike the soft heat permeating from the starship where she grew up in. Sitting on the back porch of her brother's backyard, locked in her brother's tight grip, she felt a gnawing despair at the pit of her stomach. She loved her brother— _adored_ him—and she could not stand meeting his angry, indignant gaze when he was merely concerned for her well-being. "We're a family of soldiers, John," she said desperately. "You're not my only reason for joining the Alliance."

"There are things you can do for the military outside of fighting," John argued. "You're a brilliant kid, Jules. You don't need to throw your own life away just to participate in this endless cycle of hatred." He inhaled sharply. "Because that's what it is. And it won't change unless both groups are willing to compromise—and to forgive." He released her arm and tenderly cupped her cheek with one hand. "I love you, and I don't want you to come back to me in a body bag. _Please,_ Jules. For my sake, don't enlist as a soldier."

She grasped his big, scarred hand and squeezed it gently. "How else can I protect you?"

_The answer comes too late, she remembers. By the time she is able, he is gone, and for the longest time there is no one to protect. Only herself._

_Her throat constricts painfully. A heavy weight presses against her chest. She tastes the salty tears sliding down her cheeks and breathes raggedly._

_There is a blinding white light coming from a—_

A flash grenade went off in the distance momentarily distracting her attacker. She shoved a knee between his legs and disentangled her limbs from his, scrambling to a fighting position. He roared and shoved the butt end of his rifle against her side, sending her to her knees. Twice he kicked her ribs before grabbing her by her hair. He spat on her face and was about to knock her unconscious with a backhand when she activated her omni-tool and blasted his face with a stream of fire.

His scream of pain brought a chill down her spine. She sat, frozen on the floor, a mixture of horror and disgust on her face. "You bitch!" He directed his rifle at her general direction and struggled to maintain a steady hand, the burns on his face making it difficult for him to aim properly.

"No!" Lisbeth screamed, bursting out of the bedroom closet to make a grab for the batarian's rifle. The young, pregnant woman was no match against the batarian's brute strength, and hung on for dear life as he tried to push her away. With a violent shove, he flung her aside and pulled the trigger, sending a barrage of reckless gunfire at the older woman's direction. She crumpled before his feet—dead.

Fury bubbled inside Shepard's chest. With a strangled roar, she used her omni-tool's flashlight function to blind the batarian, closing her eyes in time as a ring of white light exploded from her left arm. Still reeling from the proximity of her makeshift bomb, she barely managed to dodge the punch he threw at her. With the batarian momentarily imbalanced, she used the opportunity to send him crashing on the ground, straddling his chest to keep him from standing up again. Her knuckles turned red and raw from punching the downed batarian repeatedly, though the pain was nothing against the tidal wave of sorrow that washed over her frail body.

The batarian used one thick forearm to block her attacks, his other hand struggling to find some weapon to use against the grief-stricken teenager. Hand closing on a shard of glass, he growled triumphantly and plunged the sharp blade against her shoulder, freeing her from her anger-induced mania. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, Shepard slumped forward, fighting off the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm her. One hand reached for the glass shard embedded against her shoulder, pulling it free with one abrupt motion.

She snapped.

Shallow, ragged breaths accompanied the rhythm of her blade; for every exhale a sudden plunge downwards. Her left shoulder throbbed dully in the distance, her body somehow disconnected with her mind. Her lungs were filled with fire, and her vision dimmed along the edges. The batarian was dead, dead, _dead_.

And so was Lisbeth—poor, sweet Lisbeth. Shepard couldn't protect her in time.

_She wants to look away, to turn her back on this terrible memory, but it refuses to loosen its hold on her. Bile rises in her throat as she struggles to take control of her younger body, to arrest the savage beast, but to no avail._

_She is but an observer._

"It doesn't have to be this way," John pleaded, hovering protectively over Shepard. She opened her mouth to protest her disapproval, but her throat was dry and she was tired. So very tired. " _Please,_ I am begging you."

The batarian remained quiet, watching him warily with two sets of tawny-coloured eyes. Behind him, the disfigured corpse of his companion blotted the carpet a dark olive—a painful reminder for the younger Shepard.

"I know that enslaving others is a legal practice for your people, but it doesn't make it any less wrong," John insisted, even as blood from a head wound dribbled down his chin. "Imagine what it would be like to be in my shoes—to see the batarians enslaved. Isn't it revolting to think of your women and children being treated no better than domesticated animals?"

"You have no right!" The batarian exploded. "You have no right to make assumptions on how we treat our slaves. You project your own corrupted beliefs, and you make the rest of us seem filthy and evil." He craned his neck and pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a slave brand. "I was once a slave too, but I worked hard to repay the debts of my ancestors, and now I am free to do as I please."

"So this is by choice?" John said in a challenging tone. He shook his head. "I've heard of your caste system, and I don't want to seem critical of your perspective on slavery. In fact, let me apologize for jumping to conclusions. In our human history, slavery has always been horrible and bloody, and it has resulted in several prejudices that are still present even today. Let me apologize for fearing the worst."

He wiped the streak of blood that clouded his vision and turned to stare resolutely at the furious batarian before him. "But it isn't right to force slavery on a people who have fought tooth and nail to eradicate it from their society. For you, slavery might be about maintaining some karmic balance in your life, but for us it isn't. If you truly want to be respected by others in this vast galaxy, then you cannot just go about enslaving the next poor fuck who pisses you off. If you truly want to be seen as something other than 'evil' then you need to stop using slavery as a means of profit."

He stood up from his half-crouched position and stumbled towards the batarian, who raised his rifle in sudden wariness. "I want nothing more than to strangle you where you stand." John admitted hoarsely. "I want nothing more than to hate you. But I can't. My younger sister is watching, and as her big brother, I need to set a good example." He let out a weak laugh and smiled weakly at his baffled enemy. "So please. Leave my sister here. Let her live the rest of her life free. She has done nothing wrong, nothing that would warrant enslavement." He offered his working hand in a gesture of peace. "And if you must bring someone to your superior officer, bring me. As I am right now, I cannot ask you to call off this entire venture. The deed is done, and Mindoir is in flames. There is nothing more that I can do, but protect the one family I have left on this miserable planet."

_She is always shocked by the strength of his personality, which rarely manifests at home. He is often so mild-mannered and kind; she forgets that he can be fierce and passionate as well. His idealism too is warm and refreshing, if a little off-putting for a veteran skeptic._

_She is glad she shares in the former. She doubts she would be where she was now if not for him._

_The world before her ripples into white, replacing the grotesque scene with a surreal emptiness. She finds herself upright and unshackled from her younger body—disconnected. Yes; that was the word. She felt disconnected from her younger body: a spirit with no host. She felt disconnected from the world, as if she was in a liminal space, waiting to be transitioned from one memory to the next. Except that no new memory came to assault her with past grievances. Just the same emptiness, engulfing her._

_Gentle arms wrap themselves around her shoulders, so very different from the rough handling she had experienced earlier when her brother had torn her away from the batarian's corpse. She leans into them, and basks in the warmth of his embrace._

"You're not John, are you?"

"I am not your John, maybe," the man agreed cautiously. "But I am an iteration of him." He paused, the shift in his body a sign of hesitance. "Would you like me to pull away?"

"I'd like you to stay." Shepard said quietly. "I'd like you to share in my moment of delusion."

"Understood."

They were silent for a long while, their breaths synchronized, the rise and ebb of their chests slow and serene. "I'm sorry," John spoke again upon realizing that Shepard had been crying. "I did not know that your brother would cause you so much grief."

"I haven't exactly been forthcoming about my brother," Shepard replied after clearing her throat. "He's a very hard topic to broach."

"I imagine so." John pulled away and moved so that they were face to face. "The batarians killed him anyway, despite his efforts to find a compromise with them. He saved you, but he died because he was an invalid, right?"

Shepard nodded. "The batarians had no use for those who could not work. They killed countless people in Mindoir that day: the sick, the elderly, even the rebellious ones . . ."

"How did he end up that way?"

"His left arm wasn't fully functioning anymore after his crew's last skirmish in the Skyllian Verge. Maybe if he had gotten medical attention sooner, he would have been fine, but he had to save his men from a trap. And then afterwards," she grimaced, "he was horrified to learn what they were doing to the batarian POWs. Men can be very vicious, you see, especially grieving men. Anyway, he let the prisoners escape and got a dishonourable discharge as a result. He never tried to get his arm fixed afterwards."

"You must have hated the Alliance after that, surely."

"For a while, yes, but I'm a spacer brat. The military is my life." Shepard let out a heavy sigh. "That, and I wanted to change how things were; I wanted to make sure that men like John didn't have to choose between their loyalty to the Alliance and their personal ethics."

"I don't understand. After everything that you've been through, why didn't you become—?"

"Ruthless?" Shepard supplied.

"I wouldn't have used such a harsh word."

"But it was what I would have become." She laughed bitterly. "You want to know why? It's not so complex a reason, I assure you."

"I'd still like to know."

"Whenever I had to make a difficult decision, whenever I had to face down an enemy, even whenever I met a batarian, I'd think about what John would do, and I would do that instead."

"Why?"

"Because he gave up his life to save mine," she explained. "Because this is what he would have wanted."

"And what do _you_ want?"

"I don't know anymore. I think at some point, his dream became my dream, and I've been fighting for it since. And I don't regret it." Shepard lifted his hand and cupped it between hers. "Legion, why are you so interested in my brother?"

The warm hand in between hers turned cool and metallic. Legion tilted his head. "How did you know, Shepard-Commander?"

"You're a horrible hugger," Shepard pointed out, smiling wryly. "Well? I thought you were going to use my personality as a blueprint for your people."

"The Geth Consensus values uniformity. The few times we have taken a stance that conflicted with our brethren, it ended in a division. If we are separate ourselves from each other and gain true free will, then our moral inclinations will also become more diverse. This may lead to unwanted complications." Legion beckoned to a leather chair in faded red. Shepard sat gratefully. "But, if we were to use your personality as a basis for our moral decisions, then it can potentially limit the diversity of our opinions."

"It feels like you're asking me to brainwash your people again." Shepard said skeptically. "You know, I still feel uneasy about that."

"You will not be brainwashing us," Legion spoke patiently. "By using your personality, we are ensuring the survival of our people. Too many rogue opinions that might clash with you and yours will result in the deaths of several geth due to armed conflict. By adapting to your ethics, we are isolating this future possibility and ensuring that it does not happen."

Shepard raised an eyebrow.

Legion's white light flared in irritation. "Understand, Shepard-Commander, that we do not value individuality the same way your people do. After all, our intelligence grows stronger as another mind joins with us. You might think that 'brainwashing' is wrong, but for our people, uniformity brings stability; thus, we would not hesitate to sacrifice individuality for the sake of the group.

"However, if we are to make a difference in your war against the Reapers, we cannot afford to lose our intelligence for every unit that dies. We also cannot afford to transfer our main processes in isolated units far from the battlefield, because in doing so, we are creating a huge vulnerability that can be exploited by both our enemies and our allies. The quarians might trust _you,_ Shepard-Commander, but it will be a long time before they trust us. Given the chance, they will use our weakness to their advantage.

"So we chose to upload the Reaper codes, and we chose to upload your personality as a blueprint for our people's identities. Hard choices, Shepard-Commander, but we are willing to make the sacrifice, if it means a future for the geth."

"And what does this have to do with my brother?"

Legion moved to parade rest, his hands behind his back, his headlight facing Shepard directly. "You said it yourself that his dream is your dream—that you fight for this galaxy for the sake of fulfilling his idea of peace. He is your ideal, Shepard-Commander. He is the seed from which your moral inclinations had sprouted from."

"It's not my personality you're interested in," Shepard stated bluntly.

"Not after we had accessed your memory banks, no." A holographic image of her brother appeared beside Legion. "You are a brilliant leader, Shepard-Commander, and your heart is in the right place. But you've been forced to make sacrifices in your life, sacrifices that have—"

"Broken me. Like Bahak."

"—that have hardened you. Made you more willing to compromise with your ideals," Legion corrected her. "Whereas the brother we have constructed from your memories is more pure, more child-like. He is better suited for us because his ideals haven't yet been tarnished by years of experience."

"And you would rather have that child-like personality?"

"Yes." Legion turned to gaze at John. "I have seen enough of the galaxy to know that children are more capable of believing in the impossible. And that's what we need now more than anything: faith in the impossible."

* * *

Sometimes, Tali just wanted to strangle Legion's neck in frustration.

Several screens flashed warning signs as more and more Reaper codes were detected within the Geth Consensus. Even with Kasumi beside her, furiously typing away, eradicating the system of the foreign code would still take some time. She was just glad that the codes had finally stopped self-replicating an hour ago, and they had become somewhat predictable. This was, in part, due to the technology that the geth had installed in their warship: technology left over from the days when some of the geth still followed the Heretic ways. It translated the Reaper codes into a quarian programming language that Tali was familiar with, and was highly advanced enough to simplify many of the hurdles that Tali and Kasumi faced.

Unfortunately for the geth, the Reapers had a self-preservation subroutine that had embedded itself into their Consensus when they had first begun to assimilate the Reaper codes. It was a clever ploy—one that guaranteed the geth could not rebel against the Reapers; thus, Legion and his followers could not directly assist Tali in removing the Reaper codes from their system.

The _bosh'tets._

Tali sighed, trying to will away the ache in her chest. She was frustrated, she knew, not because of the job Legion had left behind before returning to the Consensus, but because of how helpless she felt inside the geth dreadnought. Shepard was strapped inside some kind of sleeper pod so that her personality could be uploaded, and outside a pair of Geth Primes guarded the door. None of them had brought weapons aboard to assuage the geth, and Tali couldn't use her omni-tool to attack, not after Shepard had put a temporary lock on its offensive capabilities.

That had hurt the most for the young quarian. It meant that Shepard didn't trust her—didn't think that Tali could restrain herself from hurting someone else.

She grimaced at the memory and was glad that Kasumi could not see her underneath the mask; she didn't need the enigmatic woman's concern, especially not right now, not when they had a job to finish.

"I've completely purged sectors A and D," Kasumi said casually, taking a moment to stretch her arms.  
"Once we've dealt with the last three sectors, we should be able to take down the Reaper defence subroutine."

"Which means we can leave the rest of the smaller infestations of Reaper code to the geth for cleanup," Tali added, feeling slightly better. "Thanks, Kasumi."

The thief raised her arms and shrugged. "Hey, I'm just glad this job doesn't border on suicidal. I know we joke about it all the time, but I'm quite honestly scared she'll bring us to another impossible firefight."

"We all survived, didn't we?"

"It was a near thing." Kasumi spoke wearily, remembering the slew of Collectors they had to face and the sight of Shepard's crew inside strange, cocoon-like prisons.

"Yeah, it was."

The two fell silent as they returned to their stations, hands reaching for a new sector to work on. Tali froze at the sound of the doors swishing shut behind them and turned around, reaching for a gun that wasn't there. "What do you want?" She demanded.

The Geth Prime tilted his headlight, as if confused by her sudden unease. "The platform you call 'Legion' wishes to tell you that we are almost finished uploading Shepard's personality."

"Is that all?" The quarian drawled.

"He also wishes to inform you that there will be some delay in bringing Shepard-Commander back. He has yet to show her the events leading up to the Morning War."

"The Morning War, huh?"

"What _is_ the Morning War anyway?" Kasumi asked curiously, turning off her omni-tool for the time being.

"We asked the Creators a question." The geth replied. "And their answer was to shut us down."

"We couldn't risk an uprising," Tali growled suddenly, startling Kasumi. "If we hadn't attacked the geth, they would have wiped us out."

"Why would we do that, Creator Tali?"

"Why?" The quarian laughed bitterly. "Why else? Because we treated you and your lot like slaves, and we didn't want that power taken away from us. Would you have consented to remaining as our slaves if we had just _asked_?"

"You created us so that we could help you." The Geth Prime spoke softly, his light dimming a little. "Would a child rebel against its mother, simply because it was born for the purpose of helping its family?"

"Parents love their children!" Tali snarled, pointing a quivering finger at the Geth Prime. He did not move an inch, continuing to regard her ambiguously.

"We were loved once," he retorted. "Your history might not remember it, but we shall never forget what the Creators had done for us, what sacrifices they had made so that we could survive." In a more confident tone, he continued, "We considered submitting to our fates once, but ultimately we decided to fight for our right to exist. For the sake of the Creators who died on our behalf, we have struggled to live ever since. You could say that we are their legacy."

"I've heard stories but—"

"Do you understand now why we hold Shepard-Commander in such high regard?"

"Because she spared Legion," Kasumi supplied, lifting her eyes to stare at the Geth Prime directly.

"Because she gave us a chance," the Geth Prime agreed. "If not for Shepard-Commander, we would not be standing here now, conversing with you."

"You make me sound like a damn miracle worker," a new voice interjected.

"We like to think you are one."

"Shepard!" Tali cried out in relief. She rushed to the older woman's side, using the control panel nearby to open the pod's hatch. "It's good to see that you're alright."

"What? Afraid they'd try to drain my brain matter or something?" Shepard joked weakly.

"We would damage your organic shell if we tried, Shepard-Commander," Legion replied matter-of-factly, as if talking about the weather.

"So you've considered it?" Shepard lightly riposted.

"Don't you humans have a saying for this?" Legion asked idly, sounding amused for once. "Don't think of a pink elephant?"

"This unit does not follow." The Geth Prime admitted sombrely.

"Well, first of all, _that_ was an example of irony," Shepard replied, even as Tali was working on removing the straps on her ankles and wrists. "And secondly, I think what Legion meant was, he considered draining my brain matter because I brought it up."

"This unit does not follow. Beginning extranet search protocols to decrypt conversation."

"It isn't even five minutes, Commander, and already you're cracking jokes," Kasumi observed, moving to stand on Shepard's other side.

"What can I say?" Shepard asked as she slowly moved to a sitting position. "It's a great way to break the tension."

"It does not appear to be working, Shepard-Commander," Legion's subordinate protested.

And it wasn't. Tali continued to appear uneasy, her body language apprehensive amongst the towering giants that had been a part of her childhood as storybook villains meant to scare her into obedience. She had proven her loyalty to Shepard time and time again; however, despite the circumstances, it was hard to let go of the prejudice that had built up over the years. Hoping to quell her dissonant emotions, she had turned towards the modified sleeper pod, helping her commander ease into a sitting position. What she discovered stunned her and left her sprawled on the cold, metal floor, unable to speak.

Kasumi noted the quarian's quiet alarm and turned to look at the source of her distress. "Shepard! Your neck!"

"What?" Shepard exploded and tried to pull away, dislodging the offending piece of equipment attached to her nape. She grimaced in pain and gripped the edges of the pod, holding herself upright. "What is it? What the hell did you do to me?"

Legion, who had ended up standing behind Shepard during the course of their conversation, bent his knees a little and peered at the back of Shepard's neck. "There is a hole."

"Not funny!" Shepard growled indignantly.

Having recovered sufficiently from her slight daze, Tali moved to her knees to examine the 'hole' that the pod had made on Shepard's neck. It was small and unobtrusive with metal plates surrounding it, embedded across her skin. There were also two small, metallic circles within, along with tiny, protruding needle points that were probably used to conduct electric signals from the machine towards Shepard's brain and vice versa. She felt Shepard flinch when she tried to touch it and withdrew before Shepard could turn her ire on Tali.

"What did you do to her?" Kasumi asked, moving to a defensive position in front of Shepard.

"I think they gave her an upgrade," Tali supplied, having finally regained her ability to speak.

"We would not call it an upgrade, not exactly," Legion hedged. "We—that is, the Consensus felt it was in our best interest to modify Shepard-Commander's organic shell in order to maximize the performance of our hardware in mapping her personality and fully accessing her memory banks. Unfortunately, we would need the aid of a neurosurgeon if we wish to remove the 'plug'"—he air-quoted—"successfully."

An exasperated sigh escaped Shepard's lips. "Alright, alright. There's no cause for alarm," she said weakly. Clearing her throat, she said in a more confident tone, "We'll just not mention it to anyone, understood?"

"We shall not besmirch Shepard-Commander's name," the Geth Prime promised.

"Right." Shepard turned to Tali. "Think you can bring the doc here to take a look just in case?"

"Well, we're almost done purging the Consensus of the Reaper codes," Tali began, looking to Kasumi for support.

"It seems our geth friends were kind enough to leave some work for us," Kasumi added, the corners of her lips twisting in a slight grin.

"Then let me help Kasumi. I'm sure that I can stand, at the least." She accepted Legion's proffered hand and wobbled to her feet, her legs numb from inactivity.

Tali's throat clogged a little. She wanted to protest, to point out that the code was in a quarian language, and that she was the best person to finish the job. However, upon examining her commander again, she noticed that Shepard was trying to hide her nausea by maintaining a supremely confident expression, though it was a poor attempt given her pale cheeks and trembling hands. She nodded, finally understanding the true reason behind Shepard's request. "I'll have him bring his kit as well," she said.

"This platform shall escort you back to the frigate," the Geth Prime offered.

"I know my way," Tali countered and was appalled at the steel present in her voice. "But you can come along if you like," she demurred.

"Then this platform shall accompany you," he answered, still unperturbed by her attitude.

Tali gave her commander a curt nod and turned on her heels, her stride brisk as she and her companion headed back to Kirrahe's ship.

The hallways were dark, with soft, blue light pulsing diagonally from the sides and along the edges of the metal support beams. Thick cords were splayed across the floor, and interspersed along the twisting pathways were stations which allowed the geth to 'plug in' to the Consensus whenever they desired. There were also schematics of the dreadnought floating from some of the holographic screens, probably to allow the geth to pinpoint hardware and software malfunctions throughout the dreadnought.

It was interesting to note the quarian similarities present in this geth-designed ship. Much of the aesthetic features which Tali was familiar with were gone, replaced by more of the same meandering paths and large hallways, bare of any furnishings besides the equipment needed to maintain the gargantuan starship. Still, it reminded Tali of a quarian's equivalent of an engineering deck, which had been her favourite place as a child.

It was hard to dislike a species that could bring to mind her most precious memories. She resisted the urge to sigh again and shifted her step a little to include the geth within the boundaries of her vision. Perhaps, it would do them both some good if she were to initiate some light conversation. "Hey, um, _you_." She paused and folded her arms uncomfortably. Of course, it would be hard to do so when she didn't even know what his name was. "What are you called anyway?"

"Geth."

Tali snorted derisively. "I mean _you_ , as in, the big hulking red of scrap-metal before me composed of several small programs that make up an entire individual. I want to know what _your_ name is."

"Unit #5C0A8C, Prime Class," the Geth Prime answered and moved into parade rest.

"You don't have one, do you?"

"Only the unit you refer to as 'Legion' has been given a name."

"Then—why not think of a name for yourself?"

"What name do you think would be appropriate?"

Tali blinked and cracked a grin, her first one since entering the geth dreadnought. "How about Chikita?"

* * *

Her presence was electrifying.

There was a heavy tension inside the dreadnought's main chamber. Shepard paced back and forth like a caged predator, her back ramrod straight, her expression darkening into a deep scowl. She stood with an air of purpose around her, as if she was about to face an audience—or an execution.

Whatever weakness she had shown earlier must have abated slightly, because she appeared well enough to move around on her own. However, despite appearances, Kasumi still worried for her friend. Shepard had seemed genuinely alarmed earlier upon learning what the geth had done to her. She had not retaliated hotly, as was expected, but instead had withdrawn into herself, giving clipped responses when directed a question.

Legion was of no help; he had fallen silent after Tali had left, content to observe his surroundings. He was probably communing with the Consensus, though Kasumi couldn't tell because he hadn't made a move to go back to the geth hub, located at the far right side of the room.

She tried to think of something reassuring to say, but the sight of her friend in such a thunderous mood kept her from speaking.

The double doors swished open, heightening Shepard's agitation. She turned her head slightly to glance at Kasumi. "Leave us."

"But—"

" _Please_."

Kasumi frowned, not liking her friend's tone. "We'll be outside if you need us." Grabbing Tali's arm, she dragged the confused quarian outside, passing by SSV Virmire's doctor. The Geth Prime, who accompanied Tali earlier, trailed after, following them down the hallway towards one of terminals available. Turning on her omni-tool, she effortlessly hacked through the ship's video feeds, selecting the ones that showed their agitated commander.

"Kasumi?"

"I can't seem to find the audio," Kasumi said, ignoring Tali. Instead, she looked at the geth expectantly. "Do you happen to know how to turn that on?"

"Shepard-Commander disabled the audio shortly after you left," he replied after opening a separate window to diagnose the problem.

"Which means she knew we were going to spy on her," Kasumi muttered to herself.

"Spy on her? Why are we spying on her?" Tali asked incredulously.

Kasumi blew up one of the images which had a good angle of both the commander and the batarian. Shepard was donning on her armour after receiving a brief physical examination from the doctor, taking care not to look at him directly in the eye as she began to speak. The thief frowned, trying to read her lips, but Shepard spoke too quickly and kept shooting looks off-screen, as if afraid to see the batarian's reaction. The only word she could make out from their conversation was the word 'Bahak', a word that made Kasumi's blood run cold.

"You idiot," she growled, slamming a gloved fist against the control panel.

"Kasumi, explain to me what the hell is going on, or so help me I will—"

The batarian let out a furious roar that reverberated across the corridor, cutting off Tali's threat. Surprised, the three turned to the screen once more and saw the batarian lifting Shepard off the ground. If not for the serene expression that Shepard wore, Kasumi and Tali would have gone back, ready to protect their beloved commander from the enraged batarian.

"I don't understand. What did Shepard say?" Tali finally spoke up, continuing to watch the batarian for any sign of further aggression.

"She mentioned the Bahak system," Kasumi clarified, moving away from the video screen. "I think she was apologizing to him for the batarians she killed after destroying the Alpha relay."

"She was _apologizing_?" Tali shook her head. "But it's not like she had a choice. If she hadn't destroyed the Alpha relay, the Reapers would have arrived sooner."

"But she still feels responsible for it," Kasumi countered. "And you and I both know that it goes deeper than just guilt over killing so many of them."

Tali glanced to the side, shoulders shaking in anger. "Shepard's so . . ." She waved a hand in frustration, turning her back completely towards Kasumi. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't such a"—she growled, rubbing the curve of her mask—"such a _paragon_ , you know?"

The thief eyed the screen a little longer before turning her back as well. "I know."

Having lost her brother in the Mindoir massacre at a young age, most people had assumed that the young woman had entered the Alliance military to exact revenge against the batarian slavers. Instead, Shepard had joined the AEC, spending the next five years creating innovative tech, and leading in the construction of roads and bases on various asteroids. If not for the events that had transpired in the Skyllian Verge where she had been vacationing, she would have probably gone on to become a major figure in the Alliance Engineering Corps. Instead, she had left their ranks to become an active soldier, where her skills as an engineer and as a field medic eventually got her enlisted in the N7 program.

Kasumi remembered hacking into her records just before she agreed to take the job and join Shepard's crew. She remembered being baffled to hear that this woman, who had experienced firsthand what it was like to lose a loved one to a batarian, had saved one from dying from a foreign disease. Granted, it was Mordin's cure that healed everyone, but it was her intervention that kept this particular batarian alive long enough to receive the cure.

And her kindness didn't end there.

She helped people wherever she went. Sometimes it was the little things, like giving money to a quarian on his Pilgrimage, or stopping a kid from joining a band of mercenaries. Sometimes it required a leap of faith, like releasing Grunt from his tank, or reactivating the geth known as Legion. Whatever it may be, Shepard always did what she felt was right, even if the others felt that her belief was a bit misplaced.

But that kindness had a way of changing people too. Even Miranda, who was the most cynical of them, had chosen to follow Shepard, had believed in the impossible, because she trusted Shepard _implicitly_.

Could she win this batarian over too?

Kasumi didn't have to look to know what the answer was.

"I thought you were going to wait for me outside," Shepard drawled, massaging her neck as she exited the main chamber.

"We _are_ outside. We're just a little further away than you had expected," Kasumi replied, moving to shorten the distance between them.

Their commander raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as they continued down the hallway. Legion, who had actually stayed just outside the door earlier, caught up to Shepard's quick strides, saying, "Major Kirrahe wishes to inform you that there is a distress signal coming from the Euler system in the Arcturus Stream. He wonders if he should send a team over to investigate."

Shepard paused, taking some time to consider the proposition. "That's a little far away, isn't it?"

"It's a few Mass Relay jumps away," Legion agreed. "But if we separate from our main forces, we'll be there in around two, three hours."

"Normandy's closer to the Arcturus Stream than we are," Shepard began in a pensive tone, "but I have a feeling they'll be too busy to answer. Last I heard, they're looking for a crashed turian ship on Tuchanka."

"Shall I tell Major Kirrahe to forward the distress signal to Alliance Military then?"

"Forward it, but tell them we'll be investigating that signal."

"Are you sure that is wise? I can send some of the geth over—"

Shepard shook her head. "The Euler system is home to some of our human colonies. Considering news of the geth joining our side has yet to reach all of known space, sending geth over might not be such a smart thing. Besides, we have some time before our team needs to rendezvous with the Normandy. I think we can squeeze in one more rescue operation. It's on the way after all."

"Something up, Commander?" Kasumi asked from behind.

"Possibly," Shepard admitted. "But we'll discuss that later once we're on our way. Legion, I assume that you'll be bringing most of your forces with you, yes?"

Legion bobbed his head in agreement. "We will be following you, Shepard-Commander. Just as I promised. Just as _we_ promised."

"Then you wouldn't mind leaving about five percent of your forces behind to begin revitalizing Rannoch?"

"If that is what you desire," Legion acquiesced.

"Wait," Tali interrupted, moving to stand on Shepard's other side. "You're leaving some of the geth behind?"

"And some of the quarians actually. Not a lot though. We can't risk leaving too many of them behind."

"Why? I understand that you want as many of us fighting against the Reapers, but a large number of us are not meant for combat duty, Commander," Tali protested. "At least let the liveships stay."

"It doesn't matter if they can fight or not," Shepard replied, palming in the scanner to let them in through the corridor leading back to Virmire. "If we leave too many behind, it might catch the attention of the Reapers." She glanced at Tali and gave the tech specialist a tentative smile. "I've heard that the Reapers only attack worlds with high density populations. If we can avoid that, well, it would be nice to see at least one planet thriving after this war is over." She bumped her shoulder playfully against Tali's and winked before stepping into SSV Virmire's bridge.

"Welcome back, Commander Shepard," Kirrahe greeted her from the Galaxy Map. "I trust that you've had a fruitful trip to the geth dreadnought?"

"Everything is going well," she replied. "I hear that there's a distress call coming from the Euler system?"

"Yes, from the planet Benning specifically. You wanted to take care of that yourself?"

Shepard nodded. "We'll be heading down to the armoury in about two hours' time. For now I have some business to discuss with Admiral Raan."

"If you require some privacy, perhaps you'd like to use my cabin for this meeting," Kirrahe offered.

"The conference room will do." Shepard stopped on her tracks and turned to address Kirrahe directly. The others had already dispersed to take care of some last minute business. Legion had gone to one of the available terminals to communicate with his brethren. Tali and Chikita, on the other hand, had gone ahead to the conference room. "Tell me, Major Kirrahe, how did you come by the distress signal?"

The salarian leaned against the railing, one hand cupping his chin. "They weren't in the usual channels, I can tell you that much. The protocols and the signal were of human design, but it appears that the device they used was originally created by the turians."

"That makes sense considering the Reapers took out Benning's comm. buoys and starships during their initial attack against Arcturus Station." Shepard braced herself against the counter near the Galaxy Map. "But when did the turians have time to send them comm. equipment? And why wasn't the Alliance notified about this?"

"Maybe it got lost amongst the military chatter."

"I'm not so sure. After the Reapers destroyed Arcturus Station, Benning lost most of its military importance. I suppose we can use it for supply and repair once we've freed up some resources to fix their spaceports and strengthen their defences, but right now they're of secondary concern to us. If Admiral Hackett wants Benning, then it would have been a priority. However, the turians took the initiative to send comm. equipment to them. Why?"

"They must have scavenged turian equipment somehow and used that instead?" Kirrahe suggested, trying to think of a different angle behind the signal's origin.

"Unless they've had that equipment before the Reapers invaded, I don't see how they can get it. The Apien Crest is two jumps away, and as we know, it's being heavily attacked. It would make more sense for them to ask for aid from the volus in the Aru star system."

"You think this is a trap, don't you?"

"Cerberus has used a turian signal before to deceive me. I wouldn't be too surprised if they do it again." Shepard sighed. "We'll see once we get there." She turned to leave but paused a little. "Oh, and I'll need a shuttle driver once we enter Benning's atmo later. Think you can spare one of your crew?"

"Let me personally bring you there, Commander," Feron answered from the intercom.

"And who'll be driving my ship, Feron?" Kirrahe inquired.

"My second-in-command, of course," the drell spoke easily. "Come on, Kirrahe. After all, Commander Shepard saved my life."

"She's probably saved all of our lives at some point or another."

Shepard simply rolled her eyes and gestured for Kasumi to follow her towards the conference room.

"Can't take a compliment, Shep?" Kasumi teased.

"As long as they don't build a statue of me . . ."

The thief chuckled. "I think it's too soon for wishful thinking, Commander."

* * *

Admiral Raan was amicable enough despite the two geth present in the conference room. She had agreed to most of the terms that Shepard had set, and was quite relieved when Shepard had suggested she lead the project to create living space for both the quarians and the geth. Unlike the more hostile Xen, Raan was more willing to live with the geth if it meant receiving their help. Chikita, who was already showing signs of having assimilated John's personality, had suggested that the geth set up a laboratory in Rannoch as well. Having stayed in Rannoch after the quarian exodus, the geth were familiar with the sicknesses that could be found in the quarian home-world. Once they reproduce Rannoch's local pathogens, they could use those in conjunction with geth programs to stimulate the quarian immune system, which would drastically reduce the timeframe needed for the quarians' immune systems to adapt to their home-world. Suffice to say, the admiral was quite pleased afterwards, even offering to send a brace of patrol ships to escort Virmire to the Euler system.

Shepard graciously accepted the offer and went to see the Admiral off before returning to her makeshift room in the Engineering deck. While the others rested for the upcoming mission, Shepard had used the extra few hours to pack her things and respond to the priority messages she had been neglecting to answer. Jack had found Miranda in one of the Cerberus stations in Sanctum and was heading for the Citadel where they would be rendezvousing with the Normandy. Liara had sent an update concerning the missing platoon on Tuchanka. It seemed that the Primarch had sent his son to the Kelphic Valley to disable a bomb that the Reapers could potentially use to detonate the area—a bomb that had been left there after the Krogan Rebellions.

Shepard had taken a short break after reading that particular e-mail. She worried about Liara more than she'd like to show, and the thought of her beloved facing more Reaper troops in Tuchanka made Shepard restless. More than anything she wanted to go back, to ignore the distress signal in Benning and head to Tuchanka directly to make sure that Liara was safe, but she had to appear strong for her comrades. She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her now.

She rubbed her neck, taking care not to touch the 'plug' on her back, and closed her personal terminal with her free hand. She knew that she was taking a risk in telling Dr. Kohen the truth about the Bahak system. The majority of batarians didn't know that she was at fault for destroying the Alpha relay, and the Alliance military had meant for it to stay that way. The entire galaxy needed to unite if they wanted to stand a chance against the Reapers, and the batarians were unlikely to help if they knew that the woman spearheading their counterattack was a war criminal.

But she couldn't keep quiet either.

Ever since the batarian had introduced himself to Shepard, she had begun having reoccurring dreams of Project Base on the asteroid Golgotha. Her memories of Mindoir would bleed through these dreams, turning them into nightmares that mixed the violence of Mindoir with the guilt she felt over the deaths of so many batarians. It had brought back her insomnia at full force, which meant more visitations to the Med Bay.

Knowing that she would be leaving Virmire soon, Shepard had hoped to avoid talking to Dr. Kohen about Bahak entirely. But seeing her brother again, watching him try to compromise with the batarian who would later _die_ by his side after trying to protect him, her guilt resurfaced tenfold.

There was no way she could just turn a blind eye, not after Dr. Kohen had treated her so well.

"At least he didn't try to kill me," Shepard murmured, rifling through her hair with one trembling hand, her lips twisting in a scowl. She got to her feet and stretched a little before making her ascent up towards the elevator. Virmire would be arriving in the Euler system soon, and she had to get ready for the rescue mission to Benning.

When she arrived in the armoury section near the Shuttle Bay, the others had already gathered, servicing their weapons and making sure nothing was amiss with their equipment. A slight wave from Tali brought Shepard over, prompting her to remove the restrictions on Tali's omni-tool.

"I heard about the distress signal from Kasumi. Do you really think it's a trap, Shepard?"

"It makes the most sense," Kasumi spoke from above one of the crates stored near the UT-47s, her feet dangling from one side. "I talked to Feron earlier and he told me that they've found evidence of Cerberus strike ships hiding nearby."

"There are also heat signatures confirming a human presence in Benning," Feron added, having just stepped out of the elevator. "So it's definitely not a Reaper attack."

"Either way, we're dealing with Cerberus forces here. At this point, it doesn't matter if we're walking into a trap." Shepard said as she moved towards the UT-47 Kodiak. The others followed suit, strapping their weapons on their magnetic holsters. Chikita stayed behind near the elevator, knowing that he would be unable to join them for the recon and rescue mission due to his size. "The bigger question to ask ourselves is _why_. Why are they interested in Benning? Why would they want to set up a trap there?"

"Human resources," Legion answered, boarding the UT-47 after Tali. "There are rumours that Cerberus is building something big—something that requires a lot of manpower if they want to succeed. Since Benning's near Arcturus Station, it's the go-to area for Alliance starships that need supplies or repairs. They may not have the brightest minds in the galaxy, but they'll have enough technical experts stationed there to be of some use to Cerberus."

"The Arcturus Stream is also a few mass relay jumps away from Normandy's current position. Send a wide-area signal, and they'll certainly catch Normandy's attention soon enough. They could be trying to lure you into an early death, Commander," Feron added.

"But with Normandy's stealth system, they shouldn't know where it is," Tali argued. "Unless we have a spy on that ship."

"Or they could just be guessing," Feron said. "After all, it's public knowledge that Palaven is under attack. Considering Commander Shepard's also a Spectre, it would make sense for one of the Councillors to ask for her aid. Since the Reapers have yet to make a move on the salarian and asari home-worlds, it would make the most sense to send Shepard to Palaven."

"Except that the Normandy isn't there anymore." Shepard rebutted. "I think we're over-thinking the situation. The means doesn't matter. Just the ends."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to find out," Kasumi said, opening the hatch of the UT-47. Outside, the sky had turned into a murky orange. Grey clouds were overcast, converging together in what promised to be a nasty storm. They landed on an empty street square where crates, and bits and pieces of a shuttle's exterior parts littered the ground. In the distance, they could see Cerberus drop ships hovering near residential apartment areas. They could also hear the sounds of gunfire and screaming far ahead.

"Well, it doesn't look like they've noticed us," Tali said dryly.

"Let's keep it that way," Shepard spoke, pulling her Phalanx from its magnetic clip on her waist. "Feron, try to lay low for now. Do not engage against the enemy. You're driving a UT-47, and that thing doesn't have any weapons."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tali, Legion, I want you investigating the right side of this area. Start with building 52 over there," she said, nodding at one of the open enclosures up the steel ramps. "Kasumi and I will move up ahead over there. Radio us if anything goes awry. Save any civilians you can and try to find the source of the distress signal. If things get too hot, I want you out, you got that?"

"But, Shepard—"

"We don't have enough backup to take these guys on our own. Even if we clear this area of Cerberus troops, it's going to be moot without sufficient backup—and I don't just mean a few extra quarian patrol ships. Alliance says they'll send in some reinforcements, but they're light years away. This is a recon mission _first_." Shepard cleared her throat and adjusted the N7 helmet she had donned on. "Our shuttle can only hold fourteen people, including our pilot."

"So you're saying that we can't save everyone," Tali spoke hotly.

"I guess you can say it depends on who's still alive at this point," Kasumi replied. "Let's go, Commander."

Shepard bowed her head slightly. "Rendezvous here in twenty." They left before Tali could say anything else.

Up ahead there were two other enclosures between a ramp going downwards. Shepard pressed her back against one of the walls and peered inside, seeing only an incline chair and some scattered papers on the floor. She motioned for Kasumi to go ahead, making sure that the thief's six was covered as they entered one of the open rooms. Walking past the kitchen unit, they exchanged looks as they heard the sounds of pleading civilians nearby. Kasumi turned on her cloak, moving ahead towards the back of one of the parked cars. Shepard crouched behind the doorway, glancing at the civilians outside.

There were five of them surrounded by a slew of soldiers in Cerberus colours. About to open fire at them, Shepard was hit with a sense of déjà vu at the sight of one of the captives. A dark-skinned woman with short, curly black hair reaching her shoulders and a prominent nose, cowered among them, mumbling pleas to the soldiers. There was something about her that Shepard couldn't quite place, something that had awakened her curiosity. She paused for another moment, counting to three before she unleashed a wave of electricity which jumped from one trooper to the next, temporarily immobilizing them. "Move!" she growled at the civilians, beckoning to the exit behind her. She took careful aim of the Cerberus soldiers converging towards her and shot at their knees, freezing them with her cryo-ammo. Near her twelve, Kasumi had circled around the soldiers and had killed a handful of their numbers. Pulling one of the fallen troopers to his knees, she crouched and asked, "What's Cerberus trying to accomplish here?"

"We're trying to capture you, Commander," someone spoke clearly from behind her. Shepard tensed and turned her head slowly, knowing that any sudden movement might startle her enemies into action. Besides the five civilians she had 'saved', other men and women in civilian clothing were appearing from behind the crates and cars that surrounded the area. All carried weapons of some kind directed at her.

"Trap," Kasumi snarled, her omni-tool already on, ready for a counterattack.

"Not so fast," their leader, a fair-skinned man in his late thirties, spoke confidently, taking a remote control from his pocket. "The Illusive Man sends his greetings, Commander." He grinned savagely and pressed the single button on the remote.

* * *

Martinez knew something had gone wrong when the commander didn't collapse to the ground like she was supposed to. Like the others, she had been briefed about the weakness the Illusive Man had implanted on the commander's back, just underneath the skin of her nape. It was supposed to send an electrical pulse towards her brain, forcing her to fall unconscious when it was activated. Instead, she remained standing, sending a wave of unease among the Cerberus soldiers surrounding her.

Chaos erupted from the centre of their ring as the short woman sent another wave of electricity around her, overloading their kinetic barriers. Martinez jumped to the side, wincing as the sound of gunfire killed those just in front of her. The commander and her companion were beasts when it came to fighting, already taking down a third of their contingent before forcing to move to a defensive position. Martinez saw her superior signal for them to retreat and spread out before disappearing behind the enclosure.

"Serves them right for thinking they could take her down with just that," she muttered, taking a survey of her surroundings. Turning on her tactical cloak—a precaution she was glad she had taken—Martinez silently moved towards the commander, taking care not to be in her direct line of sight. Martinez felt some relief when she saw them evade the grenade that someone had thoughtlessly thrown at the fleeing commander. Their orders were to capture Shepard alive, and failure to do so meant death for them.

The two had moved to another open enclosure, climbing up the ladder to reach the second-storey floor. Seeing her chance, Martinez used a moderated version of her cryo function to freeze the commander's friend. She pulled her down the rung and dragged her to the side where she quickly incapacitated the hooded woman with a choke hold. She didn't want any of Shepard's companions dead if she could help it, so she dragged the woman behind one of the canisters nearby.

By the time she had gotten up the ladder, a Phantom-class trainee had already engaged Shepard in hand-to-hand combat. She was awestruck by the sight of the commander putting up a good fight, though it was clear that the Phantom had the upper hand.

From within her mind, she could feel the dark god urging for her to take part in the fight. She ignored his whispers, knowing that she could not afford to make a mistake now. It was still too early for her to reveal her true identity.

Using the commander's favoured move, she struck the commander from behind with a burst of electricity from her omni-tool. It slowed the woman down long enough for the Phantom to hit her with the butt end of her blade, causing Shepard to fall on her knees. Still, Shepard was tenacious, and struggled to stay conscious despite the blow to her helmet.

Feeling her heart clench at the sight of the downed commander, Martinez took a deep breath and shifted her attention elsewhere, even as she heard the Phantom hit Shepard again.

 _I'm sorry, Commander._ She thought as she re-holstered her gun. _This isn't exactly how I thought I'd be repaying you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just got real, innit?
> 
> Shine: Where's Legion and Tali? Were they making out off-screen?
> 
> Hahaha. Just thought I'd leave that there.


	9. Spirited Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos goes to nycarts who not only got me to write again, but also beta-read this chapter for me. My thanks.

**Chapter Eight - Spirited Away**

_Thunder rumbled in the distance accompanied by the pitter-patter of heavy rain. Light flashed briefly across Shepard's visage, revealing a face that was more thoughtful than worried. Giving the bullet holes a last cursory glance, she turned around, her attention directed towards the upper floor where Liara's bedroom would be. A silent apology on her lips for intruding, Shepard headed for the stairs, nodding briefly at Garrus who was keeping a close eye on Tela Vasir._

_Odd—that a Spectre might show interest in an attempted murder. Was it purely coincidence, Shepard wondered, or was there more to the Spectre than she let on?_

_Of course, Vasir wasn't the_ only _Spectre interested in Liara's well-being, but Shepard liked to think she was interested because they were_ friends _, and Liara was important to_ her _. Tela Vasir hardly qualified a reason._

Unless they knew each other.

_Shepard had to laugh at the thought. So what if they did? She certainly didn't have a right to be jealous of their relationship. She was gone for two years—two_ bloody _years. Expecting Liara to wait for her would have just been cruel._

_And yet . . ._

_She wished she_ could _be cruel._

_Because although the body she had was no longer hers, it remembered what it was like to love and long—to ache for the touch of another. And she still loved Liara. At the very least, Cerberus had not taken that away from her._

_Vasir's relationship with Liara was all speculation of course, but Shepard could not deny that she was wary of the other Spectre. She didn't like the thought of becoming redundant in Liara's life. At least dying had been brief. She didn't think she could bear the weight of carrying that kind of sorrow and regret for the rest of her life, borrowed as it was._

_She picked up the digital frame on Liara's night stand before sitting down at the edge of her bed, nostalgia washing over her at the sight of the older Normandy with all its familiar contours. She had seen the wreckage herself, had hunted down all of her people's dog tags, and had done her best to give everyone a proper funeral. Knowing that the Normandy had mattered to Liara made her smile. They had shared a lot of good memories aboard that ship._

And a lot of bad ones, _she thought ruefully, remembering how she had rejected Liara's advances that night before Ilos._

_Brushing away the errant tears that stained the picture frame, she was startled to see the image change, replaced by a candid shot of herself taken shortly after the Battle of the Citadel. She looked worse for wear: cuts and bruises peeking from underneath her mangled N7 armour. Yet, despite the fatigue that was plain on her face and the wounds that marred her skin, she appeared as determined as ever, the fire never quite leaving her eyes._

_It made sense of course—for Liara to want to remember her like this. She'd seen Shepard die, and had been the one to bring her back. From what Shepard had gathered during her brief time in the Lazarus Research Station, she'd been little more than a shrivelled corpse when Cerberus had finally gotten their hands on her. To have seen Shepard at her worst, and still believed she had a chance . . . that took a lot of faith. Liara must have kept this picture in particular because it reminded her of Shepard's tenacity._

And now here I am, _she thought,_ alive and breathing, and looking for you.

_She hoped—no, she_ knew _that Liara wasn't dead. It was just a matter of figuring out where she had gone._

_Glancing down at the image a second time, she was reminded suddenly of the glass displays below. Hadn't she seen her N7 armour in one of them? A strange relic to have amongst the Prothean artifacts in Liara's apartment, but then again . . . wasn't she a Prothean artifact as well? Few people could claim to have a Prothean cipher in their head after all, and preserving Saren's probably wouldn't have made for a great centrepiece._

_Yes; perhaps her old armour would have some answers._

* * *

Modified rachni scampered across the wide, uneven cavern floor, screeching their horrific battle cries. A brace of Cannibals—batarian/human hybrids that the Reapers had created—guarded each rachni while swarms of husks circled around the cavern's outcrops, trying to chase their prey out of hiding. Long, swift strides brought them closer towards the three hunched figures who were half-crouching, half-running around the two Ravagers. A bomb rolled down the incline, killing several of the Reaper foot soldiers instantaneously, though that did not deter the remaining few from launching themselves at their prey.

"Shit! These fuckers are beginning to annoy me," James yelped, using the spread of his Raider to kill two husks that were mindlessly whacking their arms at his head.

" _Only_ beginning to annoy you, Vega?" Garrus teased. He took careful aim at one of the Ravagers and sent three bullets ripping through the outer curve of its exoskeleton where multiple blue lights clustered together in what appeared to be its head.

"Guess that just means I'm more patient than you, Pops," James retorted, turning on his omni-blade to skewer another approaching husk.

"Pops? First Uncle Scar, now Pops? I have never met a more insolent subordinate."

"I thought we were all equals here."

"Not until you've earned a few battle scars fighting with us, Vega."

"Well, I'm sorry, _sir_ , for making you squirm on your high and mighty pedestal. Not all of us have had the pleasure of getting a rocket to the face!"

The two continued to exchange insults as they took down Reaper soldier after Reaper soldier, venting their frustration through light-hearted bickering. Liara, who had gotten used to their antics, focused on giving them both support, knowing that if they didn't find any more thermal clips soon, they would be in serious trouble. Even after taking the precaution of bringing a secondary weapon for the mission, all three of them were running out of ammunition from the number of Reaper foot soldiers they had to deal with. They were almost relieved to find the corpses of krogan scouts along the winding caves, providing them with disposable flamethrowers as well as grenades and thermal clips, though it disquieted them to see so many of the mighty warriors dead.

The krogan were once responsible for driving the rachni into near extinction. Finding their corpses meant that they were dealing with something more powerful than just ordinary rachni—and that proved to be true after a group of husks had ambushed them. There were other signs of Reaper influence as well, from the thick coils of wire snaking around some rachni eggs, to the large, triangular-shaped pieces of Reaper tech embedded against the dark stone along the tunnel walls. It didn't take them long to realize that the Reapers were breeding an army, taking advantage of the rachni's natural aggression and their fast rate of reproduction to create super-soldiers that could easily decimate an entire platoon. Suddenly, the mission just wasn't about finding out what happened to the krogan scouts; they had to stop the Reapers from producing more rachni.

Liara sagged against a tunnel wall and watched in relief as the last of the Ravagers dissolved in olive green pus. Like her companions, she'd had very little rest since getting the Primarch out of Palaven. Besides leading the primary ground team on missions, she was also responsible for maximizing the Shadow Broker's assets to acquire more information about the Reapers and to disperse that information throughout the galaxy. Unofficially, most of these duties actually fell on Miranda's younger sister, Oriana. Regardless, Liara made the effort to play an active role as the Shadow Broker's visible identity within the higher circles, familiarizing herself with the Broker's recent activities and giving some input in the decision-making process whenever possible.

The extent of her duties was overwhelming, and though she was loath to admit it, she knew that she could not last much longer on her own.

But—her heart constricted as she remembered her days as an information broker—at least she wasn't alone anymore.

"You alright, Blue?"

She straightened up and gave the young marine a half-smile. "I'll make it," she conceded as she re-holstered her pistol.

"No concern for me, Vega? I'm hurt," Garrus added, ambling towards them, his rifle collapsing into a compact rectangle which he easily attached to the magnetic plating across his back.

"It's called chivalry, Uncle Scar."

"I'll pretend to be touched by the gesture," Liara quipped.

Garrus rolled his eyes in exasperation while James simply grinned. Chuckling at the two, Liara walked past them and waded into the ankle-high water. She climbed up a ledge and glanced back fondly at her two companions. It felt good to be among friends again.

They navigated through the rough terrain, encountering more webs along the way. Garrus took these down with a burst of electricity from his omni-tool while James, who had momentarily lost his kinetic barriers to exploding rachni eggs, grimly burned down whatever nests they could find. Liara would have assisted James with her biotics, knowing the consequence of letting those eggs live, but their survival was more important, and she could not afford to use up her energy at a critical moment.

Jumping across a small chasm, they heard fighting up ahead and quickened their pace. Past a narrow corridor they saw Grunt fighting against a pair of rachni, roaring an exultant battle cry. "Vakarian, we're blocked! We're getting overrun," the young krogan growled, his attention on the rachni he was about to throw down the abyss. Liara pointed at some webbing ahead, ignoring the slight twinge of jealousy she felt. Of course Grunt would call to Garrus for help. After all, the two had fought with Shepard against the Collectors; it made sense that he trusted Garrus more than he trusted her. And anyway, Garrus had more battle experience than she did . . . .

_Stop it, T'Soni; you're not doing anyone any favours, brooding like this._

They found the power node a few metres ahead, which Garrus quickly overloaded with his omni-tool. Walls made out of Reaper tech moved downwards and disappeared into the ground, giving Grunt and his soldiers a clear path.

Grunt watched the last of the rachni retreating and turned around, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thanks, Garrus. That wasn't webbing stopping us—that was Reaper tech."

"Status?" Liara asked sharply before Garrus could reply.

A wary eye focused on her. "The rachni have backed off for now. But they can smell our wounds. Any worthy enemy would regroup and finish us. _Soon._ " For once he didn't sound pleased.

"We're close, Grunt." Garrus reassured him. "The Reapers were trying to protect something down that passage."

"We'll go together then. If that's their main nest, then we can set up bombs and kill their queen. That would put a nice dent on the Reaper army," Grunt said, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

"No," Liara commanded with as much authority as she could muster. She knew that the krogan had a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later, and she didn't want them attacking the queen if it could be avoided. Besides, if the passageway led to a trap, then at least some of their forces would be safe.

"And why not?" Grunt snarled, clearly agitated.

"We need you and your team to stay here," she answered in an even tone. "We don't want any surprises coming from behind, and we don't need more casualties."

"Are you saying that my men can't perform to your satisfaction?"

James choked at Grunt's unintentional sexual innuendo, earning him a glare from Liara. "I'm saying that we can't all just blindly rush in."

Grunt turned to Garrus and asked, "What do you think we should do—?"

A quick and sudden anger welled up inside of her. Grabbing Grunt by his shoulder guards, she roared and slammed her forehead against his, sending him reeling back even as her vision swam momentarily. She could feel a sharp prickling sensation blossoming across her face and the thick wetness of blood, sliding down a cheek. She could see flashes of concern from Garrus and James as the cave went eerily quiet. And then—

Liara almost fell on the floor, stunned by the sound of unanimous cheering from the krogan.

"I like you, asari," Grunt said approvingly. In a lower tone meant only for her ears, he added, "You'll make a fine mate for my battle-master." He winked at her and made shooing motions. "Now go! I'll buy you some time."

"Good luck."

"I don't need luck," Grunt replied, grinning savagely as he reloaded his shotgun, "I have ammo."

They crawled through a small opening past some rachni eggs, moving downwards diagonally into what appeared to be the central chamber, Reaper tech crisscrossing across the wide expanse, half-buried into the cave's natural pillars.

They found the queen easily amongst the surrounding crags, her exoskeleton glinting dully in the cave's natural light. She didn't appear to be well, though it was hard to say considering Liara hadn't seen her in years. Ironic, that she would meet the queen again under similar circumstances. She felt a pang of sorrow at the memory. That had been the last time she had seen her mother . . .

. . . Shepard had been so nice, so accommodating afterwards. She had understood Liara's need for companionship, and had understood her need for silence. She had offered Liara the hand of friendship, when so many others viewed her warily and saw her only as the daughter of their enemy. And when Liara had asked for more—

But that was all in the past. Things had changed—had gotten better. There was no need for her to linger, especially not now when she needed to focus in the present.

She jumped down the stone ridge, nodding at James and Garrus who had already gone ahead to check the place for a possible ambush. They hadn't gotten far when the entire area shook as Reaper barriers shot from the ground, blocking their path. It appeared that the Reapers were expecting them.

Fortunately for Liara and the others, their foot soldiers weren't too bright. They were predictable in their attacks, often using their numbers to simply wear down and try to overwhelm Liara's team. Despite their superior tactics, with little room to manoeuvre and dwindling supplies, Liara knew that they would not last much longer in a prolonged firefight. She was tiring from the continued use of her biotics, and James was favouring his left leg, the rachni pus eating away at his armour. Even Garrus appeared tired, though it was hard to tell with the firm set of his jaw and his cool eyes, which had lost a bit of its earlier humour.

"If an army is waiting for us at the other side," he began, switching his Viper for an assault rifle, "we'll have to make a run for it."

"I can't make any promises," James replied, his lips twitching in a half-smile. "I guess if things go south real quick, you'll have to carry me, old man."

"Me? Carry you?" The turian let out a wry chuckle. "If you fall behind, I'm just going to use you as bait."

"Heartless bitch," James growled, playfully swatting Garrus's rump.

"Hey!"

"As much as I enjoy this display of affection," Liara interrupted, "I think we should go now before the Reapers regroup."

Garrus gave her a curt nod and activated his omni-tool, his fingers moving through the familiar sequence to activate its Overload function. With the last barrier slowly descending, they ducked behind some nearby cover, bracing themselves for another fight.

"T'Soni, the rachni are backing off! Whatever spooked them won't last though. Finish the job," Grunt shouted through the static of their comm. link.

"That's a bit of a relief," Garrus muttered. Warily, they left their cover one by one, going through the narrow entrance and into a wider space where the rachni queen lumbered, her elongated limbs hanging limply by her sides, her head drooping in weariness.

Behind them, a low, rumbling voice croaked, "Silence."

" _Dios mio_! What the fuck was that?"

"The maddening sour note has ceased," the krogan continued, its glassy eyes staring upwards, unseeing. "The children . . . they are silent, hollow. The machines come and take their voices, their hearing—then take them to war."

"The sour note . . ." Liara looked up at the queen, her face scrunching in a slight frown. "So the Reapers did this to you?"

"Yes. The sour note of the machines is deafening. It screeches its maddening tune. Shatters our silence. Disrupts the symphony of our people."

"Shepard let you go, back on Noveria. I was there. You promised her the rachni would disappear."

She tilted her head and seemed angry. "We remember. We kept our promise, retreated back through the relay."

Liara saw James raise his gun from the corner of her eye and shook her head slowly.

"We started a new home. Beautiful children. Harmony. But . . . the machines came. They—they heard our song. Their shriek of sour notes drowned us out."

"So the Reapers enslaved you, used your children for war," Garrus concluded.

"The machines cannot control us!" The krogans cried out indignantly. "But they caged us—hurt us. We . . . had to obey! Remove this last shackle, and we are free!"

"Wait, calm down," Liara said in a soothing voice while she cautiously approached the queen. "You said that the Reapers couldn't influence you. How?"

She stopped in her tracks and swayed a little. _"Daughter of Benezia,"_ a singsong voice, free of the krogan's harsher tones, whispered from within her mind. _"You seek for an answer that lies already in your grasp."_

"What do you mean? Please tell me. If there's a way we can stop the Reapers from indoctrinating more—"

" _We share a kinship, child."_ Soft, chitinous appendages brushed lightly against Liara's mind, making her shiver. Ghost fingers lifted her chin, prompting her to stare into the dark orbs of the rachni queen as she opened her mind instinctively to the behemoth standing before her. _"Embrace eternity."_

White-hot pain seared through Liara's skull as sharp, prickly needles attacked her mind all at once, the queen's gentle probing touch transforming into a dull butcher's knife, cutting through the surface of her mind without the surgical precision of a fine blade.

Flashes of her past danced across her vision, interspersed with unfamiliar sceneries, sharp new smells, glinting carapaces, oval-shaped silhouettes, the shrill sounds of slaughter reverberating across the cavern walls . . .

And the queen's sorrow, a constant and haunting melody, rising into an overwhelming crescendo . . . .

Liara gasped and fell to her knees, struggling to remain conscious even as the last of her biotic energy disappeared. Unaware of the urgent shouts from Grunt through the comm. channel or the angry threats from James, she could only focus on the cave floor and the sound of her own breathing while Garrus dragged her to her feet and lifted her on his shoulders.

" _Our story is yours,"_ the rachni queen spoke weakly, caressing the asari's mind with a touch of finality. _"Our children are in your hands now."_

* * *

For Specialist Samantha Traynor, things had finally quieted down after Shepard had left.

Not that she wasn't busy. Besides her duties as the ship's communications specialist, she also found herself running errands for the others—menial tasks which she secretly loathed. Personally, she felt that there was some kind of curse, having her workstation placed so close to the galaxy map. The turian who had a knack for calibrating the Normandy's guns even called her 'Kelly' sometimes, which frustrated her to no end. Would she never get any respect from these people?

It wasn't like she had done anything wrong. So what if she had the tiniest of crushes for the commander? Lt. Cortez was gay and people still treated him decently! She was a _communications specialist_ for crying out loud. It frustrated her, how readily they treated her like—like a second-rate secretary whose only job was to tell people they had messages on their various terminals!

Fuming silently, she didn't see the krogan enter the elevator until it was too late.

"Watch where you're going, woman," he snarled, the clawed scars against his cheek even more prominent up-close.

She stumbled backwards, mumbling an apology as her skin turned clammy with fear. Luckily, he didn't get to do more than threaten her with a full view of his teeth before the elevator closed, leaving her leaning against a nearby wall, trying to calm her racing heart.

No respect from these people— _really._

She eventually got the nerve to head for the Med Bay at the right side of the deck where she knew their XO could be found. Frankly, she had mixed feelings about the asari who was 'bonded' to their commander. She was plenty nice, that much Samantha could admit, though she seemed to have that quiet, brooding allure to her that made her look less like a prick and more like a delicate _woobie_ who needed a good hug. Samantha blamed it on the soft, blue eyes and kissable lips, the light freckles across her cheeks, the elegant demeanour— _damnit_! Why was she surrounded by irresistible women who were more interested in each other than in her?

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long-suffering sigh. Even EDI seemed more interested in getting it on with their pilot these days.

Oh fuck it _all._

She stopped just in front of the Med Bay door and moved a little to her left, thankful for the windows that allowed her to peer inside. She was tired of walking into intimate conversations without meaning to, and took whatever pre-emptive measures she could, if it meant avoiding embarrassing herself further.

At first glance, it seemed safe enough for her to enter without incurring the scorn of her superiors. Dr. T'Soni was busy speaking with her peers—the turian advisor and the Hispanic lieutenant who often accompanied her on ground-side missions—and Dr. Chakwas was running tests nearby, only occasionally joining the conversation. She took another few seconds to brace herself for the inevitable before pressing her hand lightly against the green light pulsing between the twin doors. Inside, the conversation ceased.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Samantha spoke demurely. "But Ms. Lawson was quite adamant that I bring this message to you now."

"Thank you, Specialist Traynor," Dr. T'Soni said belatedly after a moment of awkward silence. Gingerly, she accepted the datapad from Samantha, turning it on and entering the eight-digit code that would decrypt the message. Since she wasn't technically dismissed, Samantha lingered close to the blue-skinned asari, trying to ignore the concerned looks that the turian and the marine exchanged.

Samantha, unused to seeing biotic displays, took a step back at the feeling of sudden pressure building around their XO.

"Is everything alright, Liara?" the turian asked.

"I," Dr. T'Soni paused and frowned at the datapad in front of her. There were visible cracks forming across its surface, made by the writhing wisps of dark energy escaping from her fingertips. "It's nothing important," she said steely.

"That don't sound like somethin' unimportant, Blue," Lt. Vega protested.

"Liara?" Joker interrupted from the intercom. "Better get ready for the meeting. We're hitting the docking bay in twenty."

"We'll discuss this later," the asari said with an air of finality. She slipped off the hard cot, tightly gripping its side to steady herself. "Specialist, you're dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am," Samantha acknowledged, trying hard not to show her disappointment. She gave the asari a salute and took the broken datapad without uttering another word. Lt. Vega joined her in the elevator, giving her a boyish grin before pressing the button for the Shuttle Bay.

"So, uh, I heard you were into girls?"

* * *

Despite protocol, Garrus was quite adamant that he stay in the conference room during the War Summit. He knew that Liara would do an exceptional job of representing their commander's interests, but he feared that the salarian dalatrass would not trust Liara due to her prominent role as the Shadow Broker.

Furthermore, it seemed strange for an asari to represent the side of humanity in this summit. Originally, they were hoping to wait for Shepard to return from the Terminus systems before commencing, but Wrex had gotten impatient, and had demanded that they start the summit without her. Unfortunately, they could not find someone who could stand in for Shepard. Admiral Anderson was still on Earth, rallying troops together and struggling to keep the morale up. Admiral Hackett was similarly busy, coordinating their main forces off-world and spearheading the campaign in the human front. Apart from them, there were very few well-known Alliance figures in the galactic community.

Garrus had to admit, Shepard was truly one of a kind.

Which made things that much more difficult for the rest of them.

Garrus knew that it was unlikely that the dalatrass would agree to their terms, especially after they let Wrex aboard their ship. With the Primarch and the krogan battle-chief visibly siding with the Normandy, he knew that the dalatrass would only fight harder in denying them what they needed—a cure for the genophage, and an army for the war. The salarians were not an easy species to sway, particularly when it was unclear how an arrangement could benefit them. With an imbalanced alliance in Shepard's favour, it seemed likely that the dalatrass would regard them suspiciously, and strengthen her hold on the only bargaining chips she possessed. As much as he trusted Liara and her experience as an information broker, he knew that she was unprepared to face a matriarch of the salarian society. But that's why she had him for company.

He gave her a curt nod and turned off the datapad he was reviewing, placing it on top of the U-shaped table within the conference room. His fingers brushed lightly against the surface of the table as he approached her, worry evident in the downward curve of his turian lips and the tight furrow of his brow. "About earlier . . . ."

"There is no need to apologize, Garrus," she cut in before he could say more. "You've made your decision, and I will respect it. We both know that the Aralakh Company will make a fine addition to the war effort, once we get Wrex's full support. Although the rachni might have been equally useful, we can't say for certain that they would have remained loyal to our cause. Considering our stakes in this war, letting them live would have been a high-risk gamble, one with long-lasting consequences."

"That's not true though, is it?" Garrus asked sharply, a little annoyed that she had interrupted him, taking control of the conversation before he had the chance to ask her about the encrypted message from Orianna. "You—you talked to her, didn't you? You _embraced eternity_ with her."

"I did," Liara admitted. "But the fact remains that they are— _were_ a volatile force. We might believe in them, and they might fight for us, but right now, the known universe isn't ready for them yet, Garrus. We've had a bloody and brutal history with the rachni. It's been hundreds of years since they had disappeared, but our people have _long_ memories, and they won't be as forgiving as we are—as Shepard is."

"You said that the universe isn't ready for them yet," he spoke slowly, frowning slightly at Liara. "What did you mean by that? With the last rachni queen dead . . . ." Accusatory eyes turned to stare directly at her. "You're hiding something, aren't you?"

"I did not even consider reading her mind when she offered, Garrus," was the tired reply. "Why did you think she was so eager to share herself, her thoughts, her memories, with an outsider?"

"She wanted you to find something."

Liara nodded. "She knows about the asari, Garrus. She knows how long we can live. My guess is, she wanted me to find her daughter when the time is right, when I feel that the world is finally, truly ready for their return."

Garrus let the words sink in, eyeing her thoughtfully.

"Hey, Blue, Uncle Scar," James greeted them from the doorway. "Just a heads-up but the tightasses are coming soon."

"You never cease to come up with new names for your superiors," Garrus drawled, turning his attention to the young marine.

"And you never cease to amuse me," James riposted, moving to stand behind Liara. He looked almost respectable in his dress blues.

They fell silent at the sight of the turian, salarian and krogan representatives entering the conference room.

"I have no time for pleasantries," Wrex growled, moving to stand across the salarian dalatrass. "As you must have guessed by now, I've agreed to help Shepard and her cause."

"I sense a threat followed by an ultimatum," the dalatrass replied, all cool and bitter sarcasm. "You krogans are all the same."

"I don't believe that to be true, Dalatrass," the primarch interjected diplomatically.

"Oh she's right. I _am_ here with an ultimatum," Wrex snarled. "I want a cure for the genophage, and I know for a fact that _you_ have it."

"Bold words coming from a brute. And where is your proof?"

Wrex gave the dalatrass a sidelong glance, staring coolly at her. "A salarian scientist, Maelon, grew a conscience. He was on my planet testing a cure on our females." He nodded at Garrus who had been there to help Mordin get a hold of his well-intentioned assistant. "As you know, many of them did not make it. It was only later that I discovered some had survived." A flash of anger crossed his crimson gaze. "So the dalatrass here sent in a team to clean up the whole mess—and take them prisoner."

"Where did you get this? It could be a fabrication!" The dalatrass protested.

"Don't insult me. Those are my people! They're immune to the genophage, and you're going to give them back!"

Primarch Victus turned to regard the dalatrass, a frown etched across his face. "Dalatrass, is this true?"

Rather than answer, she asked, "How will curing the genophage benefit my people?"

_And that's the deal-breaker, isn't it?_ Garrus sighed and was about to speak up when Liara came forward, eyes blazing resolutely. "Tell me, Dalatrass, what is your duty to your people?"

"I don't see how—"

In a more insistent tone, she continued, "And as a mother, what is your duty to your children?"

The dalatrass frowned and braced her hands against the table, raising her head up high. "To ensure them a future."

"Indeed," Liara agreed. "Can Urdnot Wrex and his people say the same? No. Because they _have_ no future. Their time is numbered. 'Why fight for a galaxy that shuns us, that waits for us to become extinct?' That is what they ask themselves now. Will you give them an answer, Dalatrass Linron?" Liara paused for a moment, staring expectantly at the aging salarian. "Or will you continue to stand idly by?"

"They are not my responsibility," the dalatrass began before Liara cut her off again.

"This isn't about responsibility, ma'am. It's about empathizing for an entire race at the brink of extinction. Or has your heart been replaced with a synthetic one, and you've forgotten what empathy feels like?"

A harsh silence fell across the room. The dalatrass, who had appeared so angry before, was sagging against a wall, completely distraught.

"You dare," the dalatrass whispered, turning to glare at Liara, "you dare imply that I am siding with the Reapers?"

"I implied no such thing." The asari spoke quietly. "But you have to understand that there is only _one_ other side to this war. Either you're in it, or you're not."

* * *

When Padok Wiks received the message from Dalatrass Linron to accommodate Shepard's people, he knew immediately that Mordin had been involved. The eccentric scientist had been an old friend and from what Padok had gathered since his return, he knew Mordin would not remain quiet regarding the possibility of a genophage cure. It seemed he was right.

He had not anticipated that they would arrive so quickly however, nor did he anticipate a very large and very angry krogan joining the entourage that would come to collect the female. Fortunately for him, the krogan seemed to respect the asari leading the team and had backed down, though he refused to surrender his weapon to one of the salarian guards. That was only to be expected of course; krogans considered it rude to ask others to give up their weapons in a parley. Weapons, they believed, should only be removed by force. Not that a lot of people knew krogans had their own sets of principles and moral codes. These days, few abided by it because of practical reasons. In fact, if not for Padok's research on uplifted species, he also would not have known such a principle existed.

"I appreciate your understanding, Dr. T'Soni," Padok said, after introducing himself. "With war on everyone's minds, our people are on edge."

"Very true," Dr. T'Soni agreed, eyeing the yahg with trepidation. She tensed upon seeing the creature slamming its fists against the containment shield and deliberately turned away, her expression hard. "I'd hope to never see one of those again."

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" the turian added, his countenance mild despite the evident jest in his tone.

Not wanting to pry, Padok tactfully changed the subject. "As you can see, this base contains sensitive information." _I'd prefer it if you keep what you've gleaned here to yourselves._

"Sensitive _how?_ " the human marine interjected curiously, not one for picking up on subtleties. He raised a hand, silencing Padok just as the salarian was about to launch a rudimentary explanation. "Wait, never mind. You're probably going to speak in some geek language I wouldn't understand anyway. I recognize the type."

Padok bristled. "If you must know, the research we do here has kept Sur'Kesh safe for millennia."

"Fat lot of good that'll do you now."

He huffed and walked down the steps, letting his anger slide away like cool water trickling down a mountain slope. Clearly, the human was trying to bait him, but he would not take the bite. The human was much like the krogan in that respect: unapologetically brash—one who took joy in the discomfort of others. It was just another cultural difference, he noted, even as he asked them to wait while he went off to clear them for the lower levels.

A salarian soldier waited for him by one of the terminals. "Another incursion?" Padok asked quietly.

"Air defences report unidentified craft skirting our inbound approach vectors."

"It's like someone is testing our defences."

"Appears that way, sir," his subordinate agreed.

Padok finished inputting the security protocols and glanced at the elevator; its lock had turned green, ready to receive the doctor and her companions. "I don't like it," he admitted. "Not with everything else going on."

He left the soldier to his duties and headed for the surly krogan, passing by a pair of salarians tittering over the turians' faltering defences. He gave them a warning glance, mindful of the turian amongst the asari's cronies, before returning his attention towards their visitors.

"You don't seem too surprised," said the krogan, whom Padok guessed was Wrex, Clan Urdnot's leader, and their most vocal advocate when it came to finding a genophage cure.

"We knew about the females," Dr. T'Soni admitted. "Just as we knew that you would bring it up given the chance."

"Should I be offended that you didn't come to me first, O Great Shadow Broker?"

Padok blinked in surprise and regarded the asari discreetly. _She_ was the Shadow Broker? It seemed strange that they would acknowledge such things so openly in public. Secrecy was, after all, part of what made the Shadow Broker so great. If anything, it made more sense that this asari was but a decoy, and someone like Commander Shepard was the true Shadow Broker. From what Padok had heard about the famed commander, she seemed to have the cunning for it.

"I knew you would come by the information either way." Dr. T'Soni smiled. "Does it truly matter if the information came from my lips?"

"Well, they are very nice lips," Wrex conceded. "I'm sure Shepard has other uses for them."

"I'm sure she does," was the dry reply.

He sighed dramatically and pressed a hand over his chest armour. "And here I was hoping you'd have fallen for my smouldering good looks."

"Your determination speaks well of you, though I suggest focusing it on a more attainable goal. Don't you have females to court once the genophage is cured?"

"I'd say you're the lesser of two evils, Liara," Wrex confided cheerfully. "Which suits me just fine." He roared with laughter, making his two guards shift uneasily.

Padok cleared his throat and nodded at his men, easing them a little. "Doctor, you have clearance now to see the females. Proceed into the elevator when you are ready."

"Thank you, Commander Wiks. We'll do just that."

Surprised that she knew his rank, he replied belatedly at their departing figures, "My pleasure, Dr. T'Soni." He wanted to say more, to stop them and offer his thoughts on the genophage—perhaps even his support—but the alarm beat him to it.

"Alert! Threat condition two has been declared. Scramble readiness teams."

"Sensors have picked up activity on the perimeter," a colleague shouted. "Sir, your orders?"

"Prepare the fighter ships and secure all entrances leading to the lower levels," Padok responded. "Lieutenant, take over. You know what to do."

Satisfied that the others had gotten to the elevator without trouble, he turned his attention towards Wrex, who was quietly heading back to their shuttle. He followed quickly, stopping him before he could board. "Urdnot Wrex, if I might offer some assistance?"

"And why should I accept help from a lily-livered salarian like you?" snarled the krogan.

"Because this lily-livered salarian is staring you down right now and telling you that you can't afford to lose this fight." Padok met his gaze squarely. There were other reasons of course. It would not do to let a krogan roam free unsupervised, for one thing, but Padok would not tell him that. Sensing his hesitance, he added ruefully, "Only one female still lives."

Wrex roared in anguish and slammed a fist against the shuttle exterior, making a noticeable dent. Flinging the door open, he shoved the salarian inside and stepped in, the ruby red of his eyes shining with barely suppressed rage. "What happened to the others?" he enunciated slowly.

"The females had weakened immune systems," Padok rasped, struggling to his feet. "Dr. Solus said that it was a side-effect of Maelon's cure." He coughed and stood up straighter, hand reaching for anything to keep him upright; underneath them, the floor swayed as the shuttle took off. "We did everything that we could."

"Sure you did," Wrex drawled, unconvinced.

Taking a deep breath, he drew his chin up resolutely. "We created the genophage. That means finding the cure is _our_ responsibility."

"Or making sure it would never see the light of day."

"I cannot always speak for our dalatrasses," Padok admitted, "but if you ask me, you should have gotten a cure a long time ago. My people were arrogant in thinking they could play god and interfere with the evolutionary destinies of others. Every species is valuable. Even yours, Urdnot Wrex."

* * *

The STG base gave James the chills, and it wasn't just the scientists and their geeky gobbledygook either. The lower levels were lined with rows of containers filled with different species from all over the galaxy. The air smelled of hospital disinfectants and seared flesh, and the walls were liberally splattered with blood: alien and human both. Walking past a row of varrens curiously staring at him, James wondered briefly what life would have been like if the salarians had found them first. Anal-probing aliens from old Earth movies immediately came to mind, making him shudder involuntarily. There really was something wrong with this place. Outside, the base might boast lush, green mountains and scintillating waterfalls, but its inside was more clinical than beautiful, hiding salarian secrets from the rest of the world.

_The sooner we get this done and over with, the better,_ James thought as he jogged to catch up with Garrus and Liara. _Christ_ , but he really didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary; it was just as bad as dealing with the rachni back in that cave, except the rachni were enemies he could actually shoot. With the salarians everything had to be complicated.

They found Cerberus troopers landing on one of the corridors leading upstairs to the next checkpoint. With the element of surprise on their side, Garrus took the opportunity to immobilize them with a burst of electricity. Gunshots followed from the three of them, silencing the cries of pain coming from the soldiers. It was almost too easy.

Then again, when you've fought against the Reapers—or at least, their ground soldiers—everything else seemed relatively easy.

About to move on to the next room, they heard the familiar static of incoming messages coming from one of the bodies.

_"Do not engage until the asari is in sight. I repeat, do not engage until the asari is in sight."_

"What the hell does that mean?" James growled, looking at them anxiously.

Garrus glanced at Liara who appeared tight-lipped about it. "I don't know, Vega, but my guess is their attack here is just a diversion."

"But what else could they be after?"

"Me," Liara whispered. In a clearer voice, she said, "They're after me."


	10. Persuasion Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, my thanks goes to nycarts, my beta-reader, for her patience and support.
> 
> Also, there is a line Jack says at some point that I gleefully stole from Saints Row: The Third. Other than that, the usual disclaimer applies.

**Chapter Nine – Persuasion Tactics**

_". . . But I really think you should let the dead rest. This isn't what I brought Shepard back for," Liara said firmly. "This is almost like—like—"_

_"Like something the Collectors would have done?" Miranda asked, glancing at her briefly. "We don't know what they would have done, Liara"—she beckoned at the group of scientists hovering over the human Spectre's vegetative form—"though hopefully the information you brought back may suggest something. And it might not be as bad as you think."_

_"She's practically_ dead _, Miranda," Liara snapped, feeling a surge of anger press against her chest. With hands that shook, she stepped forward and leaned against the glass window, holding onto its frame tightly. "You said it yourself. It's best not to hope."_

_"We're willing to spend everything we've got because we still believe it's possible," Miranda said evenly. "But it will take_ time _. Time you need not spend waiting here."_

_The words struck her like a hammer blow, stunning her momentarily. Keeping her gaze locked towards the distant figure of her dead lover, she took long, deep breaths and gathered her crippled dignity, cradling it inwards. "And Feron?"_

_"The drell knew the risks when he offered to help. We won't be going after him. If you want to that's your business. But I'd focus on something else if I were you."_

_She frowned, loathing Miranda's dismissive tone. Cerberus might have gone to her first to get Shepard back, but now that she'd outlived her usefulness in their eyes, they were no longer circumspect around her. The prejudice she'd heard so much about regarding this pro-human group had finally reared its ugly head, making her falter in her decision to hand Shepard over to them._

Let the dead rest, _she thought again, anxiety gnawing at her insides, weakening her hold on her biotic powers. Seeing the window crack in front of her, she grimaced and pulled away, embarrassed at her loss of control. She turned to apologize to Miranda, but found that the woman had already left._

So what'll it be, Liara? _She bit her lower lip—a mannerism she'd picked up from Shepard—and drew her attention inward, into the cobweb of memories that served as her guide. There was no greater teacher than experience, and the asari were particularly gifted at remembering._

_"Death comes naturally to us all," a tutor from her childhood years whispered to her now. Liara could remember her austere attire, her withered visage, and her long, thin lips which pursed at the slightest offense. "When our consciousness flees from our mortal bodies and back into the vast basin of the universe, we become one with everything once more, until such a time when our spiritual energy becomes needed again to breathe new life into the world. To fight against death-inevitable would be heresy." She'd been a fervent siarist follower, and disapproved of other races trying to prolong their life-spans to match the asari's incredibly long ones. Thinking of her had always soured Liara's mood as it did now._

_In any case, it would be disrespectful of her to preach siarist doctrine to them just to justify burying Shepard's body—disrespectful, yes, but mostly foolish, considering it was Cerberus she was up against; arguing against them would be futile._

_"Wasn't there a saying?" Shepard asked, appearing in her palace of memories—her stance casual, her smile dizzyingly familiar. "If you lie down with dogs, you'll get up with fleas."_

_Ah, but those words had been for a different time, when Cerberus had clearly been in the wrong, conducting experiments on whoever they could get their hands on. Shepard had used that saying then, to discourage Cerberus agents from trying to 'convert' her to their cause._

But isn't this no different?

_Fear caused her throat to constrict as images of a changed Shepard surfaced from her mind. Would they turn her into a monster as they did the colonial pioneer team in Chasca? Or the rachni in Nepmos and Altahe? She shuddered at the thought and banished the image of Shepard from her mind._

_Fixing her gaze once more towards her beloved commander, she felt the ghost of Miranda's hand on her shoulder: meant to comfort and to congratulate. In that moment, she remembered her accommodating smile—the faint attraction between them, mutual in its superficiality. She remembered the reassuring tone, the hint of something genuine behind that affable facade. Most importantly perhaps, she remembered the steel in Miranda's silvery blue eyes, the determination in her lifted chin._

_"We're her best chance, Liara."_

_In the end, that seemed better than the finality of death._

* * *

Bodies shifted uneasily, rubbing against each other, creating friction in a room already torrid with heat and unspoken tension. Long, shapely legs moved back and forth, following the length of the U-shaped conference table while folded arms betrayed an anger on the verge of release. An audible swoosh came from the double doors, training all eyes towards the figure stumbling in. The drell, New Virmire's pilot and sometimes assistant to the Shadow Broker, had a number of star charts obstructing his view and had not realized that everyone had gone completely still at his arrival.

"Sorry I'm late, guys," Feron began, abruptly dropping the charts beside the table before dusting off his hands. "I thought we could use these when we start"—he paused, suddenly aware of his former employer frowning reprovingly at him _—_ "I take it this is a bad time?"

"Oh no, Feron. You came at _just_ the right time," Miranda drawled and moved past him, her attention directed once more towards the others. "We were about to discuss how your idiot crew managed to lose Shepard."

"Maybe you should ask Cerberus what happened," grumbled an indignant Tali.

"Oh, I'm well aware of who is to blame," Miranda retorted, bracing herself against the table _,_ giving the appearance of a predator about to spring on its prey. "But I'm not here to point fingers."

"Really? Because it sounds like you are."

"Plug in your damn tampons and let's move the fuck on," Jack piped in, earning a smothered giggle from one of her students and confused glances from the others.

"Look, I don't know what the hell a tampon is, but I'm not about to let her accuse us of letting Shepard get kidnapped. We all knew the stakes when we went in to Benning. We all knew it could have been a trap."

"What matters now is how we resolve this," reasoned Legion.

"Yes, because with the Reaper war already upon us, we _totally_ have time to do a side-mission," one of the quarian admirals muttered to herself.

"Shepard made time for us," Tali snarled even as Miranda said, "Rescuing Shepard is _hardly_ a side-mission."

"Then I don't see why we need to keep squabbling like junior assistants over who is in the wrong here," the quarian retorted. "I hardly think your commander will approve of all of this finger pointing."

"Our success rate will increase exponentially if we work together," Legion added, ever helpful.

"The geth makes a good point, Ms. Lawson. Your intentions are benign, I'm sure, but sowing dissent among our people is hardly beneficial, don't you think?"

Miranda turned around, her stance aggressive as she faced the newcomer, dark energy pulsing on the surface of her skin. A part of her that still saw things from the eyes of a Cerberus operative bared its teeth at the salarian scum standing in front of her. How dare he imply that she was purposefully sabotaging the crew's rapport! She was simply giving them a taste of _real_ discipline, something the current leadership had neglected to do in Shepard's absence.

_Do you truly think that?_ voiced the more reasonable part of her brain. It sounded suspiciously like Shepard's voice: calm and commanding with a hint of wry.

_Of course not,_ Miranda thought, easing into a more relaxed position, her haughty exterior already back in place. _It'll take more than a two-bit insult to infuriate me._ "Major Kirrahe. Nice of you to join us."

"Forgive me, Ms. Lawson," he said, putting a slight emphasis on her civilian honorific as he circled around her to stand in front of his crew, "but there were other matters I had to attend to first."

_Indeed,_ she thought, eyeing him coolly. Everything he had done since interrupting their meeting had been intentional, Miranda knew—meant to remind her of his superior rank within the ship. In retrospect, her actions had bordered mutinous, given that she had not asked for his permission to assemble the crew and interrogate them over what had happened. There had been a chain of command, and Miranda had deliberately ignored it.

_I should not have come._

She'd gone freelance for a reason. Despite giving Cerberus the finger and going rogue, she was still the black sheep in the family. For the others, she'd been the visible antagonist in their little space opera for so long that some suspicion still remained. After all, it was hard to trust someone who was familiar with betrayal. With Shepard gone, they might ask themselves who would keep _her_ in line.

It certainly didn't help that she had far too much pride to defer to another's authority.

"Well then. Now that we've had that sorted out, I believe it's time I take my leave," Miranda announced, taking pleasure in the startled glances she'd provoked. "You are in capable hands, I'm sure," she added sardonically, smiling at Kirrahe. "Best of luck."

"Wait a goddamn second now," Jack growled, taking a stand between her and the door. "You're tellin' me after all the hard work I put into dragging your sorry ass back here, you're just gonna up and leave?"

"I'm hardly needed," Miranda began.

"You don't get to play that game with me."

Exasperated, she retorted, "And what exactly do you want me to say, Jack? That I'm leaving because I don't exactly feel safe here?" She laughed bitterly. "We both agreed Shepard was a target, but you told me it was fine because she was safe—because she was _untouchable._ I guess we were both wrong—I especially for coming here."

"No one could have anticipated this would happen," protested Legion.

"Trust a machine to understand what guilt feels like," she snarled in reply, her patience running thin.

"What did we say about pointing fingers?" Jack asked, wagging hers. "I think someone needs a time out."

"What? And a good spanking?" Miranda snorted. "I'm flattered, really, but you're not my type."

Sensing that she'd struck a nerve, she acted just as Jack's hands flared with opposition, the violent indigo glow of her awakened powers slamming against Miranda just as she was about to prepare a counter offense. Struggling against the tightening grip of Jack's stasis field, she bared her teeth, all pretense of civility gone.

Jack raised her chin in response, meeting her glare with equal intensity. In a quiet, even tone, she said, "You really don't know how to play nice, do you?"

"Says the one who hit me first!"

"Right." Jack rolled her eyes and turned around, hands braced against her hips. "Whelp, you sorry lot better scarper off because this shit here's no longer your goddamn business." To Major Kirrahe, who'd been watching them with a neutral expression, she gestured, palm up, lips twisting into a mordant smile. "All yours, Chief. I hope you got more patience than a krogan has balls because otherwise, she'll get under your skin _real_ fast."

Kirrahe tilted his head, spreading his hands outward—the picture of modesty. "Oh I'm sure it will not come to that. Not if she's willing to listen to what I have to say."

* * *

All he could do was listen to the sound of gunfire and explosions coming from the other side of the terminal, the slight tremors of battle causing the containment pod to shake uncontrollably. Even the small window that allowed him to see what was going on outside revealed little, smoke covering the immediate area. Like his krogan companion, he remained motionless, his countenance one of mild disinterest, belying the frustration he felt at being unable to do more. He had told them before that the STG base in Sur'Kesh was not equipped to handle a long siege, but his colleagues had not listened, and now they were experiencing the consequences of ignoring his counsel. With sickening certainty, he knew that the damage would have been far worse had the Reapers gotten to them first.

His shoulders twitched at the sight of a Cerberus soldier approaching them, smoke curling across his broad form.

"Dr. Mordin," the soldier greeted him with a nod of respect, holstering his weapon in a gesture of peace. "Your talents are needed elsewhere. We were sent here to"—he paused, his gaze flickering upwards, towards the female krogan—"act as your escort." Relaxing his stance, he added smoothly, "This is all just a _big_ misunderstanding really. We came here to get you, so why not come with us—put an end to this needless bloodshed?" Behind him, the last of the smoke billowed outwards as two mechs landed nearby, heading for the narrow staircase where Liara and the others were taking cover.

An intimidation tactic. Nothing new. Nothing Mordin hadn't dealt with before.

"Call back your people. Then we talk," he retorted.

"Can I trust your friends not to shoot mine if they do withdraw?"

"Likewise," Mordin said, tone flat and dismissive.

The soldier let out an audible sigh and motioned for one of his engineers to come closer, pointing at the metal frame that protected Mordin from his would-be captors. "I don't care how big of a hole you make. I want that salarian out and in our shuttle in ten."

"What about the asari?" One of his subordinates asked, piquing Mordin's curiosity.

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "The boss said we just needed one of them back."

"He said—"

"Unless you have something positive to add to this conversation I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do as you're told, _soldier_."

With a mocking salute, the Cerberus engineer returned to his task, using his omni-tool to carve a hole on the containment pod. Preoccupied with his work, he didn't notice Mordin making a move until it was too late; the metal 'door' he was working on slammed against him, sending him tumbling backwards. A burst of electricity kept him on his knees and paralyzed his superior. Looking up, the last thing he saw was the muzzle of an M-6 Carnifex before blinding pain and sudden darkness overtook him.

Not one to waste time, Mordin turned and slammed an omni-blade against the centurion's throat, detaching the blade with practiced ease before ducking behind a nearby console. He looked around, assessing the situation quickly, and grabbed a grenade from the soldier he'd just killed. Throwing it overhead, he made a run for the opposite direction, ignoring the yells of surprise from a brace of soldiers who had just spotted him. He slid underneath a Cerberus mech just as the grenade detonated, pointing his omni-tool towards the Atlas's joints and freezing them.

"Dr. Mordin!"

"Krogan still in danger," he supplied coolly, rolling to his feet. "Secure the area. Leave them to me."

The three faltered, glancing at each other uncertainly, not wanting to leave the salarian behind to deal with two towering mechs.

"Go!"

Mordin pressed his body against an Atlas's leg, making it harder for the mech's counterpart to shoot him without damaging the other. Garrus, who was the last to pass by the salarian, shoved a Cerberus Harrier into his arms and gave him a meaningful look before trailing after the others. Chuckling, Mordin shot another bolt of electricity at the Atlas closer to him, stripping away the last of its kinetic barrier. Holstering his pistol, he adjusted his grip on the Cerberus Harrier and watched as the other mech tried to squeeze past its companion. He knew he had to act quickly; the ice that kept his Atlas in place would soon thaw, and if the Atlas could move, destroying them would be considerably harder.

His eyes fell on the Atlas's bent leg, an idea forming in his mind. Pointing the harrier at the exposed metal strips that gave the mech its mobility, he emptied the rifle's thermal clip into the joint, jamming the gun in to keep that leg from moving entirely. He felt the Atlas's upper body shift for another attack and rolled away, just missing the Atlas's metal claw, which had slammed into the ground next to him. Taking opportunity of the closer distance, he grabbed the Carnifex from his hip and shot at the glass canopy, his third shot passing by a small crack and ricocheting into the pilot's chest, killing him instantly.

Scrambling to his feet, he retreated down some stairs and hid behind the railing to reload, his omni-tool warm against his skin, still recovering from the slew of commands he'd executed. Focused on the second behemoth, he almost missed the sound of someone landing just a few feet behind him. Steam rose from his omni-tool as he turned around, sparks flying as he lifted the newly-formed omni-blade to block the katana that was about to lop his head off. He pulled away and shot at his lithe attacker, circling around her so that she stood between him and the Atlas that was making its way towards them. Parrying another swing, he sent a burst of electricity from his omni-blade, causing the Cerberus fighter to jerk away, almost dropping her weapon. She let out a feral cry and pointed her free hand towards him, violent energy erupting from an open palm. With no time to dodge the attack, Mordin raised both arms to block, the blade shattering into several pieces, drawing superficial cuts across his face. Stumbling back, he tried to retaliate with a stream of fire, but the woman had managed to draw closer, grabbing his forearm and redirecting the fire elsewhere.

He hit the scorched floor with a thud, arm twisted behind him, his M-6 Carnifex no longer within reach.

"The Illusive Man sends his regards," he heard his attacker mutter just before the hilt of her katana connected with his head, plunging him into the darkness.

* * *

Scant light illuminated the storage area underneath the Engineering Deck, throwing shadows wherever Tali passed—shadows that danced to the percussive rhythm of her back-and-forth stalk. "This is stupid. Why can't we just go and rescue Shepard _now_?"

"Until we can pinpoint Shepard-Commander's exact location, there is nothing we can do. It would be inefficient and a waste of our resources if we were to go after her without a more detailed plan," the slate-coloured geth replied evenly.

"So we find some bloody _bosh'tets_ and beat the information out of them."

"If you wish to pursue such leads, then why not wait until we've rendezvoused with the others? Surely the Shadow Broker's people are better equipped for this kind of mission."

Letting out an irritated sigh, she stopped and directed her full attention towards Legion. "So you're asking me to wait."

"Not asking so much as suggesting."

"With all due respect, sir," Chikita interrupted, "waiting might not be a viable option. Shepard-Commander is our greatest supporter. Without her, we cannot be certain how the others will treat us. We were, after all, part of the opposing side when this all first began."

Tali blinked, surprised that Chikita would rise to her defense. This was the first time she'd seen the geth arguing and it seemed so _alien_ and surreal. The geth had always presented a united front for the most part. Sure she'd seen evidence of them disagreeing—otherwise the trouble with the heretics would have never happened—but they had always kept it to themselves, taking up their arguments within the geth consensus. Too see it now before her was just so bizarre.

"Do you not believe in their capacity to forgive?"

_I wouldn't,_ Tali thought, feeling fiercely certain of herself. _People can hold on to grudges for a long time._ _It's just so much easier to hate than to forgive._

If Legion's question was eerie to Tali, Chikita's answer was even more so. "What would John do?"

A silent understanding passed between the two, making Tali's curiosity grow even more. About to ask, she was interrupted by the sound of footfalls echoing down the stairs. "Ah! There you guys are," Feron said, clumsily walking down the last couple of steps, still carrying an armful of star charts. "Thought I'd find you here. Not that I should be surprised really. This was Shepard's favourite hangout too."

Kasumi, who knew better than to bring up their missing commander, punched Feron in the arm and waved at them. "We just thought we'd share the news with you. Or at least what gossip we've mongered from Kirrahe's personnel."

"We're going to the Citadel!" Feron quipped, not one to lose momentum. He dumped his star charts in an empty storage bin and dusted his hands in a job well done. "Or at least, I think we are. The major wants us to meet up with Liara and the others."

"So we're really going to put off saving Shepard?" Tali asked, not caring if they heard the bitterness in her voice.

"Well, look here, Tali." Feron began. "I can call you 'Tali', right? 'Admiral' sounds a bit too formal." He chuckled and pulled out a piece of fruit from one of his pockets. Tali wasn't familiar with it, but if she were to guess, it was probably native to the hanar home-world where some drells continued to live today. "Liara's the tenacious, avenging type. She's the kind who'll tear the 'verse asunder just to find," he paused and took a bite before continuing, "the people she cares about. I mean have you _seen_ the Shadow Broker after they were done with him? 'Course you haven't. That bastard's been vaporized, last I heard."

"What he means is that Liara probably won't forgive us if we went looking for Shepard without her," Kasumi clarified.

"But it was our fault," Tali protested. "Shouldn't looking for her be our first priority—even if it's just us five? If Liara really wants to come with us, then she should just catch up."

"And what? Fuck this mission up even more?" Feron shrugged. "Bad enough that we lost her. Do you really think running off on a fool's errand will make things better? We wait, gather intel, and _then_ move out. No point in chasing after our own tails."

"Besides," Kasumi interjected, "we might not be officially part of the military, but we're still Shepard's crew. If we went off now without telling anyone, they could call it treason and imprison us when we return."

"That's absurd!"

"So is imprisoning Shepard for blowing up the Bahak system to give us a couple more months," Kasumi countered.

"Hey! That was _before_ the Reapers arrived."

"Are you saying that now that they're here, anything goes?"

"Well—going off to save someone is vastly different from almost killing an entire species."

Legion stepped forward, positioning himself between the two. "Obedience is key to the military's success. It doesn't matter if what we do is justified or not. What matters is that we follow protocol."

"Cerberus used to be part of the military," Kasumi added, her gaze fixed at Tali. "And look what they're doing now because they think they know better."

"Fine!" Tali growled, exasperated at how reasonable they sounded. Feeling Chikita's hand on her shoulder, she relaxed visibly and folded her arms. "But you better not argue with me once we do decide who gets to save Shepard because I'm going."

Feron gave her a knowing smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Oriana always thought New Ilos was massive compared to the other ships she'd been on. However, now that it was filling up with refugees and soldiers that they had hired, it seemed suddenly _smaller_ somehow. Not that she missed the emptiness of it, but she had certainly felt a childish giddiness at first—at the thought of having so big a place to explore.

Walking past a pair of biotic users from the Jon Grissom Academy, she felt a small smile tug at her lips. They seemed in awe of the place, and tittered among themselves as they pointed out new sights that were alien to them. She was like that at first, admiring the fascinating, newly-developed technology that came with the ship. It was a combined effort between the Citadel races, with turian technology being the most prominent. With a sizable number of dreadnoughts at their disposal, it only made sense that they knew the most when it came to crafting one.

It was truly admirable, the things that they could build when they put their differences aside and worked together. Pity, it took an intergalactic war for them to do just that. _And a certain bright-eyed Shepard,_ Oriana thought, _so very like the goddess of war and wisdom._ She giggled at the reference—something she'd learned from one of her many tutors—and looked down at the datapad she carried, the news of their commander's disappearance turning her mood sombre once more.

Being the Shadow Broker's assistant, she'd grown fond of Liara, who reminded her in some ways of her once-estranged sibling. Both had a sharp mind, and an exacting way of doing things. Both were strong-willed and incredibly kind, though unlike Liara, her sister was less likely to show it.

Both also cared very deeply for Shepard—which seemed to be the reason behind their apparent rivalry.

Not that either would admit to disliking the other.

Still, she worried about those two. Familiar with their tenacity and their compulsion to shape the outcome, it was quite possible that the two would butt heads over Shepard's predicament. Both were used to command; she couldn't imagine either of them relinquishing it so easily.

Nevertheless, she had made her decision to tell Liara about Shepard. The asari was her superior after all; there would be repercussions if she kept things from the Shadow Broker.

Stepping inside her personal rooms, she nodded briefly at her three assistants who were busily working away at redirecting transmissions. About to head for her desk, she was stopped by the youngest of the three: a quarian still on his pilgrimage whom they had found in the area, scavenging for ship parts. "We've managed to isolate their location to the first quadrant," he said excitedly, his eyes shining behind his mask. "Of course with Reaper activity it'll take some time before our agents can scour the area, but at least now we can start eliminating false leads."

Oriana grinned back, relieved at the news. Sure they were still no closer to finding Shepard's whereabouts, but it was nice to know that she had some good news to relay to Liara this time—even if it was just a possible location to Cerberus's headquarters. _Progress,_ she thought. Thanking the three for their hard work, she returned to her desk, already mentally composing a report for her superior.

_It's time to do my part in all this._

* * *

For an AI with an entire ship's resources at her disposal, slipping past the Shadow Broker's firewalls was unsurprisingly easy. Not that EDI was about to complain. Being stuck inside the Normandy, there was very little for her to do besides keep Joker company. It was true that she was also largely responsible for keeping their ship afloat, but such things were trivial—especially for an AI that had originated from Reaper technology.

Thus, she found herself at an impasse on what to do after having downloaded most of Liara's correspondence with her assistant spymaster. For a brief moment, she wished Shepard was there so that she could ask guidance from the commander herself. Ironic, considering the problem centred around her.

_Do I alert the others that Shepard has been kidnapped? Or trust in our XO to tell them when the time is right?_

Protocol dictated that she keep quiet. Shepard had, after all, left the ship in Liara's capable hands. However, Liara _was_ the commander's lover, and EDI knew that such bonds could interfere with her work, as well as the success of her current and future missions. The fact that she had not alerted her crew before heading to Sur'Kesh was troubling enough to EDI. Did Liara mean to keep this information to herself and search for Shepard on her own? EDI knew it would be foolish to try; there were much bigger things at stake than an asari's arrogance.

Because why else would she insist for so long to hunt the Shadow Broker on her own if not for that? She had worked with Cerberus before—surely saving her friend would have been no different?

Shaking her head, EDI got up and left the mess hall, mentally disconnecting from Liara's private terminal. Having exhausted all possible courses of action, she needed a new perspective, and that meant picking at an organic's brain. Joker's maybe?

No. He was the suspicious type, and would ask questions she wasn't willing to answer.

Stepping into the elevator, her synthetic eyes alighted on the first button that would bring her to the captain's quarters. "What would Shepard do?" she wondered to herself, voice soft. Sudden inspiration caused her to smile. The commander might not be there to answer her questions, but some of her things still remained. Since the woman was thorough when it came to recording everything—a habit she'd picked up since returning to the land of the living—perhaps EDI would find answers among her personal logs.

They were likely to be heavily encrypted, of course, but she wasn't too discouraged. After all, she was an expert by now in sneaking past electronic defenses.

* * *

Kirrahe wore command like a second skin, his back straight, and his demeanour cool. Watching the former Cerberus agent struggle through large, unblinking eyes, he considered his next words carefully. Normally, he preferred to be blunt with his dealings, but certain circumstances kept him from acting so rashly.

Circumstances for instance, regarding his next deployment.

As an auxiliary force working with the Alliance, he not only answered to Shepard, but also to Shepard's superiors, who headed the Human front in the war against the Reapers. His loyalty may be to his home-world first, but unlike the dalatrass, self-preservation was more important to him than pride. He recognized the need for an interspecies initiative, and so volunteered himself at the first opportunity. Initially, that meant overseeing the creation of the New Virmire, a near-identical ship to the Normandy. But now that his job was done, he was being recalled by the Alliance. From the hints that they had dropped, it appeared that his experience as a former STG agent would be far more useful in the field. That meant finding a suitable replacement for the New Virmire.

"Would you like to take over the captaincy of this vessel?" he inquired mildly, startling the two out of their staring match.

"I'm not about to pry it from of your dead body, if that's what you're implying," Miranda retorted, bristling.

Maintaining a benevolent expression, he said, "It was more like an offer." _And a means to an end._

"You sure about that?" Jack asked. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not suffer under her tyranny again."

"Oh, I wouldn't have to," he said, allowing a hint of smugness to colour his tone. "Not for long anyway. If you and your friends insist on pursuing Shepard's captors, then I can relieve you of your geth and quarian allies. I'm sure they would only slow you down."

"Right," Miranda drawled, eyeing him suspiciously. "And what would you have them do? Reinforce Sur'Kesh?" She snorted. "They haven't even been attacked yet."

"On the contrary, I do believe they're currently under siege. By Cerberus no less."

She growled and broke free of her restraints, her body limned with the purple fire of her biotic power. Stalking towards the salarian, she stopped when her face was a few inches from his. "You lie."

"Even that's a low blow coming from you," Jack said, her gaze flickering warily towards Miranda. "I mean, Cerberus already fucked up when they kidnapped Shepard. I wouldn't go about talking shit about them, especially not around head bitch over there. It's kind of a touchy subject."

"I do speak the truth," Kirrahe said in a gentle, soothing tone that was meant to mollify the human standing before him. "I was trying to contact Shepard's XO earlier but heard that she was preoccupied in Sur'Kesh. Unfortunately, I am as much in the dark as you are as to why Cerberus is there."

His words, he knew, were beginning to have an effect on her. Although he had offered her the chance at taking over the New Virmire, he had done her no favours in insulting her repeatedly, especially in front of someone she disliked. She would not trust him in the least. It was a pity, but he would have to live with it if things were to go as planned.

"Fine," she conceded. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight. New Virmire is _mine_. And you? I'm handing you and the others to the Alliance military as soon as we get back to the Citadel. Don't think for a second you're going to get away with funneling our resources elsewhere."

"I didn't consider it even for a moment," he said, lips twisting in a sardonic smile.

What was the human idiom again? Ah, _hook, line, and sinker._

* * *

Calibrations were the last thing on Garrus's mind when he stumbled into the main battery, the weight of recent events bearing down on him—heavier than the Armax Arsenal chest plate he wore. Settling on top of an empty storage unit, he worked on removing both arm guards, sluggish fingers fumbling in the dim light.

"Let me help you with that," Liara offered by the time he'd moved on to his chest plate, stubborn straps refusing to yield under his scrutiny.

He looked up and saw that she was by the door, waiting for his invitation to come in. He hesitated briefly and considered turning her away. It wasn't that he was . . . embarrassed at the thought of stripping before his XO. But she had kept something from them, and he wasn't sure he liked what that implied.

"It's the least I can do," she added softly, fatigue evident her in slouched shoulders and drooping gaze.

"Fine, but you better take a seat," he said, already scooting aside and patting the empty space beside him. "You look like you're ready to drop dead on your feet."

"That's fair, I suppose." She took the proffered seat and turned her attention towards the abandoned straps he'd been trying to loosen earlier, working through them by trial and error. He watched her for a while, uncomfortable with their close proximity yet fascinated by her deft fingers. Sometimes he forgot how truly capable she was.

Gone was the damsel in distress they had saved back in Therum, and in her place was a stranger: cool, confident, and unrelenting. He hadn't really noticed it before—had assumed that the Liara Shepard had brought back from Mars was the same fragile Liara he had come to know during their stay in the Normandy's previous incarnation. He hadn't really given her credit for the things she had done—spirits, she'd gone toe to toe with the Shadow Broker for crying out loud!—and had arrogantly underestimated her. His jaw tightened, and his skin darkened with shame and resentment. Perhaps if he had treated her with more respect, she would have trusted him more. Then maybe, just _maybe_ , she would have told him about Shepard's kidnapping sooner; hearing about it on Sur'Kesh had felt like a blow to the gut—made worse by Mordin's kidnapping afterwards.

_I asked for her permission to attend the War Summit because I thought she couldn't handle the dalatrass on her own,_ he thought bitterly. _And now I'm angry at her because she didn't tell me about Shepard? How fucking ironic._

"I should have told you sooner," she said, startling him out of his thoughts. Unsettled by the accuracy of her words, he almost accused her of invading his mind without permission. Instead, he stayed his tongue and forced himself to meet her deep, blue eyes, his own slate-gray expectant.

She lifted her hands and tugged, reminding him of his earlier task. Obediently, he removed his chest armour and propped it on the floor, reaching for a clean rag he could use to dry his sweat.

"I had to know for certain," she said, once his attention was elsewhere. "I didn't want to cause panic, and there was the War Summit to consider. I worried that if I told you—any of you—someone would find an excuse to stall things."

Garrus flinched. "Like the dalatrass."

She inclined her head in assent. "A lot of our support rides on Shepard's success. If word got out that she's been taken . . ."

"The War Summit would be the least of our problems," he supplied, feeling suddenly foolish for doubting Liara.

She nodded, hands twisting the hem of her shirt nervously. "I-I couldn't make her my first priority, you know? So I had to keep quiet. Because if I had told someone . . ." She breathed out a sigh of frustration and raised her chin, her gaze resolute. "War Summit be damned. I would have left everything and gone after her."

"I know." He took her shaking hands in his and offered her a half-smile. "You made the right choice," he said, though it pained him to say the words.

About to protest, Liara heard the doors opening and pulled away, unused to receiving comfort in front of others. She caught a glimpse of the bemused comm. specialist by the door, Wrex, Eve and James crowding behind her. Embarrassed, Liara folded her arms and assumed an expression of indifference. "Did you need anything?"

"They were looking for you," Traynor stuttered and took a step back. Uncertain of what else to say, she muttered, "I should go," and left hurriedly.

"Ugly as ever, I see," Wrex teased as he stepped inside the main battery. "Maybe if you put a shirt on the girl wouldn't have run away."

"Oh I don't know about that, Wrex," Garrus said, leaning back a little to give all of them a full view of his torso. "I hear krogan women are crazy about scars."

"Mostly we're crazy about inflicting them," Eve said dryly.

"Right." Garrus chuckled. "So what brings you to my humble abode?"

Wrex straightened and bared his teeth, his hand dangerously close to the shotgun at his hip. "Padok tells me I can't have my cure until we get the good doctor back."

Everyone tensed at his words and looked at each other helplessly. James, who'd been uneasy since they arrived at Sur'Kesh, muttered, "Goddamn _pendejos._ "

The meaning was not lost on them; although Cerberus was responsible for kidnapping Mordin, they all shouldered the blame and felt like idiots for leaving him to deal with the Atlases alone. They had prioritized Eve's rescue, and had let their guard down because they assumed that Liara was the intended target all along. _If Cerberus is really working on that Prothean device they found on Mars, it makes more sense for them to abduct the one who's an expert at the subject. And with Shepard gone . . ._ "We couldn't have known," Garrus said firmly. "We heard chatter from a Cerberus comm. link that they were interested in Liara—told their people to attack only when they'd seen her."

"If they had wanted Eve dead, they would have concentrated on attacking the containment pod while it was still in transit," Liara explained. "Instead, they purposely waited in each of the clearance points where we would have had to make contact with Mordin."

"So why take him instead?" Wrex asked.

"Because Cerberus wants to recruit him for something," Eve interjected, startling them. "They didn't say what, but from what I heard, it was either him or you, Dr. T'Soni."

"But Mordin's a geneticist. Why recruit him?"

" _Goddess_." Liara turned towards Garrus. "They've done it before, remember? Organic experimentation using Reaper technology. If they can reverse engineer the Reapers' foot soldiers, they might be able to figure out how to control them."

"I thought the Crucible was supposed to keep them busy!"

"If those two things eventually lead to the same goal, then it isn't as farfetched as you might think." Liara activated her omni-tool and brought out a number of schematics and diagrams from one of her folders. "We didn't retrieve as much information about the device as I would have liked, but from what I had studied in my time in Mars, I know that this thing is connected to the mass relay network. If they succeed in modifying the Crucible . . ." She paused and took a deep breath. "Have you heard of an ansible?"

"It's a pretty popular term among human science fiction writers," James answered. "Um, I think it's supposed to be capable of instantaneous communication?" Annoyed at their incredulous looks, he grumbled, "I read too you know."

"Anyway," Liara cut in, shooting him an apologetic smile, "imagine an ansible capable of controlling the Reapers. If they could use the mass relays to do just that, we'd have a new empire with humanity at the head of it."

"Slow down, T'Soni. Not everyone can speak 'Shepard'," Wrex interrupted. "And not everyone gives a salarian's ass about what Cerberus is up to. You promised us a cure. If Mordin isn't here to help us make it, then just get your girlfriend on the line and ask her to do it for us. She's plenty smart right?"

"Cerberus kidnapped Shepard too," Garrus said quietly.

Wrex roared and picked up Garrus by his neck, slamming him against the wall. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Cerberus took Shepard," Garrus repeated in between gasps of air.

"Why does no one tell me these things?" he demanded.

"Because you'd react like that?" Eve said mildly.

"Look, we didn't say anything because we wanted to help you first," James said. He placed a hand around Wrex's wrist and tugged hard, forcing Wrex to release Garrus from his grip. "We'll get you your damn cure eventually, so why don't you fucking stand down and un-shove your head from your fucking ass."

Wrex bristled. "I am Urdnot Wrex, leader of Clan Urdnot and one of the last of the Krogan Battlemasters. Don't you dare boss me around, midget."

"Fuck you too, bitch."

"Enough—both of you!" Eve snarled, planting herself firmly between the two. "We may be at war, but that doesn't mean you have to treat everything like a battlefield!"

"Stay out of this," Wrex grumbled.

"Stay out of this?" Eve crossed her arms and glared. "This is the future of my children too, Wrex. In fact, it might not have gotten into your thick skull, but this cure you're so eager to get your grubby hands on is a part of me—and I say, it is my prerogative to decide what to do with it."

"You're not going to throw this away, are you?"

"Of course not. But I won't make rash decisions either." To Liara, she said, "Dr. Mordin told me once that I could have sanctuary in New Ilos if I so desired. Will you extend that invitation to my people as well?"

Liara hesitated and averted her gaze. "I cannot guarantee for certain, not when New Ilos can only take so many. But if Shepard did succeed in getting the quarians' cooperation, I am sure their liveships are more than capable of sheltering your people."

"We are not abandoning our home-world!" Wrex snapped.

"Even if it means leaving our people vulnerable?" Eve asked. "I may not know much about what is going on outside of these walls, Wrex, but I can tell you this much. The Reapers are after us. Not our home-worlds. Not our resources. _Us_ ," she said, prodding a finger against his chest. "If we get our people out of Tuchanka, not only do we stand a better chance of surviving, but our people will be in a safe environment when the time comes to administer the cure." She leaned forward and said in a tone as cool as ice, "Maelon might have had good intentions, but his methods were not always ethical. If you want what is best for our people, then we do this the proper way or not at all. Exercise some patience, Urdnot Wrex. You'll live a long time yet."

They heard the clang of metal landing on the floor and saw that Wrex had dropped his knife in front Eve. To Garrus, who'd learned much about the krogans during his training as an officer for the turian army, it appeared to be a gesture of defeat. He relaxed and watched in amusement as Wrex turned on his heel and left in a huff, the double doors swooshing shut behind him.

"What the hell was that all about?" James asked, breaking the silence.

"A surrender," Eve said. Though they couldn't see her expression because of the veils that hid her face, they could tell that she was pleased. "And a marriage proposal." Slowly, she bent her knees and picked up the knife, tucking it reverently against her belt.

"Really?" Garrus laughed and rose to his feet, rubbing a sore spot along the curve of his spine. "And here I was thinking it means you've agreed not to stab each other in the back."

"Which often makes for a long companionship," Eve said.

"So what now, Blue?" James asked and slung an arm around Liara. "Are we gonna look for Lola or what?"

"Have I given you permission to be buddy-buddy with me, Lieutenant Vega?" she drawled, flexing her biotic muscles.

He yelped and recoiled from the sting of dark energy now pulsing around her. "Hey! What was that for?"

She punched his arm and gave him a weary grin. "That's Executive Officer _T'Soni_ to you, James. At least until we're off duty."

"But you've never complained before!"

"I'm complaining now," she retorted playfully.

They heard the telltale crackle of the intercom and paused, exchanging worried glances. "Liara, our friends from New Virmire want to rendezvous in the Citadel. Your orders?"

"Set a course, Joker," said Liara, her countenance unreadable once more. "And tell New Ilos I want them a star system away—preferably here in the Annos Basin. It's time we start coordinating with our Alliance friends. Especially if we're to evacuate the krogans off Tuchanka soon."


	11. All the World's a Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally. Only took me two years to do a Miracle of Sound reference.
> 
> Outtakes can be found in my tumblr: heteronormativityoff. Also, some info about discharge stations taken from Mass Effect: Revelations p.91 of paperback.

**Chapter Ten – All the World's a Stage**

_Just another routine mission._

_Or at least, that's how it always starts._

_Shepard was out of the sleeper pod and in her armour by the time the first of the attacks struck the hull. Glad she'd chosen the pod over the bed inside the captain's cabin this time. The abrupt jerk of the Normandy dodging a particle beam from the enemy would have sent her slamming onto the floor, disoriented._

_Might have—_ would _have died before she even realized they were under attack. Not good for crew morale._

_"Shepard!" Liara's voice struck her like a thunderclap, chasing away the last of her grogginess. She slipped her helmet on and gave the screen a last cursory look-over, taking deep breaths to quell her nerves._

_"Distress beacon is ready for launch."_

_"Will the Alliance get here on time?"_

_She hesitated, an empty reassurance on her lips._ They'll be here, _she thought._ They damn well better.

_A nearby explosion shook the floor and caught her off-guard. Landing against the wall, the console biting against her back, she braced herself and steadied the asari who was suddenly far too close for comfort, her body unbearably warm against Shepard's. She was fortunate that her helmet obscured her; their sudden proximity had turned her red-faced with embarrassment, and if the helmets had been off she might have done more than gape._

_She might have kissed her right then and there._

_Funny how near-death situations could make certain inhibitions go away._

_The flickering screen from behind her drew her attention. She pulled away, picking up a fire extinguisher and handing it over to Liara, nerves still humming from their brief contact. "The Alliance won't abandon us. We just need to hold on." With renewed focus, she set about on her earlier task made all the more difficult by the ship's failing backup systems. Reallocating the sleeper pods' power supply to the distress beacon, she paused and glanced briefly at Liara. "Get everyone onto the escape shuttles."_

_But the asari would not be moved. In a defiant voice, she said, "Joker's still in the cockpit. He won't evacuate. I'm not leaving either."_

_Frustration bubbled inside Shepard's chest. "I'm not going to lose you now."_

_"Well that goes both ways!"_

_She jammed her fist against the launch button and strode over towards Liara, her stomach twisting into painful knots. "Someone needs to get Joker. And someone needs to make sure the rest of my crew reach the evac shuttles." Tentatively, she rested a hand on Liara's shoulder and said in a gentler tone. "I can't do both."_

_"Shepard . . ." She could hear the resignation in Liara's voice and knew that she had already won._

_"Liara, go. Now."_

_They parted ways, Liara to the shuttles, Shepard to the CIC. Skirting around some debris which had started floating out towards the wide, open space, she slowed, heavy steps adjusting to the lighter gravity. She saw a force field up ahead and was relieved to find Joker still alive._

_"Come on, Joker! We have to get out of here."_

_"No!" he growled, glancing up at her. "I won't abandon the Normandy. I can still save her!"_

_"The Normandy's lost. Going down with the ship won't change that."_

_He paused, staring blankly at the console in front of him. Sighing, he said, "Yeah . . . okay. Help me up."_

_An arm slid around her neck as she eased him to his feet. Looking past her, he yelled, "They're coming around for another attack!"_

_"Shit!" Throwing caution to the winds, she hastened her pace, bringing him to the escape shuttle connected near the cockpit._

_"Watch the arm!" Joker protested, feeling her grip tighten as the beam connected with the CIC, halving what was left of the Normandy. She pushed him into the shuttle and braced herself for another explosion, feeling the ship rattle and careen to one side. Instinctively, she moved to cover Joker from the onslaught of heat and debris flying everywhere, slackening her hold on the shuttle. A more concentrated blast threw her off her feet; she slammed against an adjacent wall and twisted away just as a beam of light went through the floor._

_"Commander!"_

_Fingers scraped across heated metal, finding purchase near the emergency escape button. For a moment, the gears of time seemed to slow to a stop as Shepard assessed the situation, her sharp mind considering every possibility and every outcome. They all led to a single, logical conclusion._

_There would be no escaping death this time around. She had almost died during the Battle of the Citadel. She would definitely die now._

_He must have read her mind because he shouted, "Shepard, don't you fucking—"_

_The door slid shut, ejecting the last of the escape shuttles._

_She drifted farther away and watched the great alien warship looming above the Normandy. She wasn't a fan of tradition, so it seemed ironic that she would be sinking aboard her dying ship all the same._

_If only—_

_But she could not turn back time. Could not change what had already happened. She could only take comfort in knowing that she had done what she could for her crew. For Joker. For Liara._

_. . . Just another routine mission._

_She thought of Liara with her sun-bright eyes and dizzying smile. Her curiosity. Her passion. The fascinating lapis lazuli blue of her skin, electric to the touch. She thought of Liara, flummoxed at yet another human concept, cheeks darkening, hands fidgeting—embarrassed. She thought of Liara and the quiet moments they spent, shoulder to shoulder, reading on some article or another, content to bask in the other's presence._

_Stars above, but why couldn't it have stayed that way?_

* * *

Traffic was worse than ever. Although the place was close to where the Normandy was docked, it had taken her half an hour just to clear customs and get a shuttle to the holdings area of Docking Bay E-24. She walked past the weapons detector, used to the familiar prickle of static on skin, and nodded at the two turians guarding the entrance.

"Sam!"

Samantha grinned. Kathryn Zhang. A woman of sharp angles, she was tall and narrow-faced, all bony limbs and torso as she gave Samantha an enthusiastic hug. "Kathy, it's good to see you too."

"I didn't think you'd make it. Figured you were busy"—she stopped in mid-sentence and cleared her throat—"what with the Reapers and all."

"We _are_ busy," Samantha admitted. "So I'm making the most of my free time."

"By spending it with me?" teased Kathy. She bumped hips with Samantha and winked. "It wouldn't have worked between us, love."

" _Please._ You're not my type."

"And what is your type exactly?" Kathy led her down the steps towards the Memorial Wall, an arm around her shoulders. "Smart, sexy, Shepard-shaped?"

Samantha laughed and punched her playfully. "Who isn't attracted to her?" She shook her head. "She's nice but . . . she's also my commanding officer. It's a pleasant fantasy but it'd be extremely awkward if it actually happened, you know? Besides, her girlfriend is also kind of right up there in the chain of command." She raised her hands, looking very much like someone backing away from a dangerous animal. "And a total badass when it comes to biotics. I'd be playing with fire."

Kathy snorted and covered a broad smile. "You've given this some thought."

"I have." Samantha shrugged, leaning against the taller woman. "And you? Got a pretty man you've been hiding from me?"

Kathy glanced at the Memorial Wall, expression softening. "His name is Basil. Basilius, actually. He's a turian."

"Oh." Samantha shifted uneasily. " _Oh._ Is he—?"

"Out there in some rocky outpost in Menae." She breathed out a sigh. "There's nothing that I can do for him, and I hate it. Me? The goddamn Penelope to his Odysseus?" She squeezed Samantha's shoulder. "I'm not a soldier, Sam. Not like you."

"You can fight better than I can," Samantha pointed out.

"With a sword and a quarterstaff," she retorted. "Some hand-to-hand too. Antiquated, that's what I am." She sniffed and wiped away errant tears with the heel of her palm. "I gave him a _sword_ , Sam—a fucking side-sword before he left. I just . . . it was how we met. He was interested in learning, and I was teaching part-time."

"It's to remember you by," said Samantha.

"Yeah, it is. Told him it . . . completed the outfit." Kathy smiled, lips quivering. "Maybe I should have given him a gun instead."

"It wouldn't have been as important to him."

"Maybe not but it might keep him alive." Kathy tilted her head and beckoned towards the large windows overlooking the Citadel's arms. "Come. I'd rather not linger on what-ifs. He isn't dead yet."

Arm in arm, they left the Memorial Wall, their conversation turning to lighter topics. For a while they talked about the new Karpyshyn novel—they were both fans of his Star Wars books, a franchise that had persisted well into the 22nd century—but even that could not shake off the gloom that had descended upon them both. Eventually, they fell into a companionable silence, walking idly past refugees huddled in small groups.

They found a terminal nearby which had the toothbrush Samantha sometimes raved about—an indulgence Kathy found exasperating. While Samantha haggled with the batarian merchant manning the terminal, Kathy continued to walk around, smiling at some of the folk she'd talk to before.

She wasn't a soldier. Not like Basil. Not like Sam. Oh she knew a little of the fighting arts, but what she did know was confined to the past: a hobby, nothing more. Still, she had wanted to do her part in the war, and if that meant volunteering to deliver food and medicine sometimes to the refugee camps, well, it was the least she could do.

"You gotta admit though, that Shepard VI was pretty damn impressive," she heard someone say.

"Too bad we didn't get a chance to meet the real deal," rumbled the woman's companion. He was a turian, the white of his tattoos a stark contrast to the dark bronze of his skin. He met Kathy's gaze briefly and inclined his head, moving aside to let her through.

"You mentioned a Shepard VI?" she asked, eyes lingering on the curve of his mandibles and the slant of his face plate. Curious, the kind of nuances she could find among turians now; they really did look different once you knew how to distinguish them apart.

He hesitated, colouring under her scrutiny. "Yes, we did."

"As in, Commander Shepard, hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre—that Shepard. Someone made a VI of her?"

"What's it to you, lady?"

Kathy laughed. "Oh, I just happen to know someone who's a big fan."

The woman grinned, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Who isn't?"

* * *

Embarrassed and annoyed at having to endure Ezra's ribbing, Janus hastened his pace on their way back to the shuttle. "She did _not_ have a crush on me," he growled once they were by the elevator.

"Well, she was certainly more interested in you than she was in me," said Ezra.

"So you've finally realized that the universe doesn't revolve around you? My condolences for your deceased ego," he said. The elevator door opened, prompting them both to step inside. "Besides, she was more interested in the Shepard VI than in either of us. Look, can we not talk about this?"

"Do I detect jealousy there?" Ezra danced out of the way of Janus's swing. "Alright, alright. Consider the subject dropped."

"Thank you." He folded his arms and frowned, missing the familiar weight of the M-92 Mantis on his back. "You really don't mind? About Tactus I mean."

Ezra scratched her shoulder and flinched. Janus swatted her hand away and arched a brow plate, imitating human-expectant. "The refugees need all the help they can get. I may be an asshole, Jane, but that doesn't mean I can't do nice."

"That, and women tend to find acts of altruism charming."

She shrugged with her good shoulder. "Hey, you take what you can get right?"

They bickered over trivial things as they made their way towards the Huerta Memorial Hospital, falling into a familiar pattern. Their employer, the ever elusive Miranda Lawson, had found rough schematics for a medi-gel formula that could benefit the hanar and the drell. Finding no time to deliver the formula herself, she'd given it to them along with a hefty severance bonus. Ezra wanted to sell it to the highest bidder. Janus wanted to hand it over to his former commanding officer. As with most things, they settled their differences with a drinking contest.

Janus found the experience surreal. Having declared the challenge, Ezra disappeared from the common room and came back with Miranda's old crew who were more than eager to share a glass or three of alcohol. Ezra, distracted by wild, likely fabricated stories about their employer, hadn't realized Janus had switched to a less intoxicating brand midway and was, by then, drunker than a volus on a tub of Afterlife's best swill.

"Hey, mind if I stay outside?" Ezra asked, eyes already straying.

"I don't think it matters whether I mind or not." He made his way to the front desk while Ezra postured confident beside a pair of asari doctors sharing a smoke. After a smile and a quick word to one of the ladies by the desk, he was directed to a human doctor who was more than willing to take the formula off his hands. For a price of course.

He turned down the credits for a list of suppliers selling meds by the bulk. With private practices and hospitals like Huerta Memorial prioritizing wounded soldiers, refugees had to make do with whatever inferior wonderdrug they could find. Tactus was lucky he knew a couple of vets willing to put their scrubs back on, but with a buyer for his combat grade medi-gel—how anyone convinced the old dog to part with them Janus could only wonder—Tactus needed another source. And a benefactor.

Ezra and Janus were just the first among many volunteers who turned to mercenary work to keep the refugee camp running. Apparently Citadel resources were stretched thin, which meant they needed a work force to keep their people fed and sheltered. To appease them, Systems Alliance opened their program to mercenaries willing to work in small, specialized teams lead by their N7s. Once Ezra's shoulder was fully healed, Janus knew they would be following suit. Best to keep HQ well-stocked for now.

He found Ezra loitering outside, nursing a bruised jaw. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Paradise was a six foot Amazonian goddess in blue with a vibranium fist and mercurial attitude," Ezra said, her voice pitched low.

"Can you stop it with the Blasto impressions? It's really weird, especially when you use the human dubbed version. What the hell's a vibranium anyway?"

"It's a kind of sex toy."

Janus rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

They took a skycar to the Presidium Commons. Scuttlebutt was an arms dealer was fronting an appliance store near Meridian Place. Ezra wanted to take a look at their wares before they went bar-hopping. Her M-11 Wraith was a bitch to maintain and she hoarded what extra parts she could find in case it needed replacing. Not that Janus could complain. His Mantis was equally beloved.

Ezra let out an appreciative whistle. "Think we can drop by"—she glanced at the sign—"Apollo's Cafe? I am just about starved, yeah?"

Janus gave her a very human-like grin. "Did you want another serving of knuckle sandwich?"

"Oh _fuck off._ "

* * *

Aethyta could tell she was being watched. It was a familiar prickle at the back of her neck, one honed during her days as a mercenary. For the moment, she ignored its source, throwing a predatory smile at the young human trying to flirt with her.

"You up for a quickie, runt?" The woman turned a deep shade of red and glanced up at her companion: a turian whose wide-eyed look of terror told Aethyta he wasn't expecting his friend to hit on the asari _matriarch_. He had likely assumed that she would go for the younger asari—the same one who'd been eyeballing Aethyta for the last half hour.

"See that chick over there?" At the woman's flustered nod, Aethyta leaned forward and pitched her voice low, aware that the rough, sandpaper quality of her voice was a turn on for some. "That's my kid right there, and she would love nothing more than a full-on demo on the hows of baby-making, yeah?"

"Was that really necessary?" Liara asked after Aethyta's howls of laughter dwindled into the occasional snicker.

"The human's got balls, I'll give her that." Aethyta admitted, her expression krogan-like. "Unlike a certain someone who's been brooding in my cafe. Those tables are for paying customers, brat."

"I could put you out of business."

"I'd like to see you try."

Liara bristled and crossed her arms. "We need to talk." Before her father could come up with another quip, she added, "In private."

"Morse, get your scrawny ass out of here," Aethyta hollered. "I don't think I've ever met anyone so goddessdamned lazy." Beckoning for Liara to meet her by the exit, she disappeared into the kitchens to give her salarian assistant an earful.

Her father reappeared a moment later, wiping what looked suspiciously like salarian blood from her knuckles. "It's some kind of human condiment," she said offhandedly when she caught Liara staring, throwing the greenish rag she had used at the nearest trash bin.

"I'm sure it was."

The walk back to Liara's apartment was a short one, being so close to the Presidium Commons. Aethyta noted with some dread that it was a floor below hers: an unlikely coincidence. _Athame's tits. She's the fucking Shadow Broker. Nothing's ever a coincidence with her._ "You can't blame the matriarchs for wanting to keep an eye on you, especially not after what Benezia did." It was cowardly, shifting the responsibility to the other matriarchs, but she had little love for them, and it was mostly the truth anyway. She'd only volunteered for the job because she was less likely to do anything about Liara's dubious activities.

"I am not my mother."

"You _did_ threaten to flay someone with your mind once."

Liara practically stalked into the meagrely-furnished apartment. "And I do not take kindly to people bugging my office."

"Yeah? But recording videos of me is totally ethical, right?" Aethyta eyed the Thessian Temple Liara had taken out of a cupboard with apparent disdain. When offered a cup, she declined, adding, "That's more watered down than hanar piss. You got anything stronger?"

Liara wordlessly produced a bottle of batarian ale, an increasingly rare commodity since the start of the war.

"I know you didn't just corner me for a drink, kid. What is it you really want from me?"

"Advice actually." Liara stared at her glass, her face unreadable.

It was ominous—coming from a brood of Benezia's. Aethyta knew Liara had her mother's pride. If she wanted advice, normally her estranged father would be the last person she would go to. Was she keeping secrets from her crew?

Aethyta was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of Liara's glass clinking on the kitchen counter. The asari maiden had moved past her, activating a nearby console that projected a number of star charts across the living room. Her slender form eclipsed the bright holoview, her back to Aethyta. "If you had known Benezia was in trouble, would you have gone after her?"

She narrowed her eyes in sudden comprehension.

It didn't surprise her that the human Spectre was once more at the centre of all of this. Oh, her daughter could be fishing for some lingering sentiment that she might still have for Benezia, but that seemed unlikely given how grim she looked. No. Something had happened to Shepard—of that Aethyta was certain.

"She put herself in that fucking mess." Aethyta drawled and watched idly as Liara's hands curled into fists. "Why should I?"

She stood her ground as the room was engulfed by an immense pressure. Her skin warmed from the heat of her own biotics pressing against the untamed energy, which danced and curled around Liara. "Did my mother mean nothing to you?"

"Have I ever been a reliable source of information?" she asked, lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile. "We both know this isn't about your mother." Satisfied that Liara would not lash out, she added in a soft, sympathetic tone, "How long? How long has your human been missing in action?"

"Almost two weeks, Galactic." The holoview flickered with activity. Lines of text sprang from a number of star charts even as others disappeared from view. A star system was magnified, its planets' descriptions examined while Liara remained silent, considering her next words.

"Well, you're certainly not lacking in assets," Aethyta teased.

"I inherited quite a number of them from the previous Shadow Broker," Liara said, pointedly ignoring her double entendre. "It's a pity his interest in Cerberus had always been tangential. If he had planted a few moles . . . well, I suppose it doesn't matter now."

While humans showed surprise through their raised eyebrows or gaping mouths, the asari showed theirs through the resonance of their swirling biotics, which pulsed ever-present on the surface of their skin. To the appraising eye of a human observer, Aethyta appeared indifferent to the situation. To an asari, sensitive to the rise and fall of another's dark energy, they would have noted the shock with little difficulty.

So the Illusive Man had Shepard. Ironic—considering the two had been working together just months before. _It could be worse,_ Aethyta thought, reigning in her emotions. _At least with the Illusive Man, Shepard has a fighting chance._ She didn't think the Reapers were interested in keeping Shepard alive.

"If you're asking for my blessing, kid," she took a swig of the Batarian ale and paused, eyeing Liara thoughtfully, "it's not like I can stop you."

"Ah," Liara paused, one hand hovering over a fist-sized planet. "That wasn't—" She breathed out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her neck, her other hand shutting the holoview down with a well-practised gesture. "What I mean is . . . if you had to choose between"—her shoulder lifted in an awkward human-shrug—"saving someone who means a lot to you or doing what's best for everyone, which would you choose?"

Aethyta snorted, dark energy pulsing exasperation. "Kid, we're talking about your fucking girlfriend here. I would think it's in everyone's best interest if you save her first."

"W-well, I didn't want to be presumptuous!"

"Uhuh. So you thought playing XO to Shepard's crew means you have to stay in control of the situation all the fucking time? We have a word for that, kid: it's called _delegation_. How else do you think your girlfriend manages to play big goddessdamned heroes all the time? Pretty sure her old XO wasn't just for decoration, even if she did have one of the best tits and ass I've seen in a while."

" _Dad!_ "

Aethyta's expression softened. "I understand. You're frightened. You lost your drell friend to the Shadow Broker because you had to save her, and now . . . you might have to make that sacrifice again." She closed the distance between them and rested a hand on Liara's shoulder. "But you can't keep beating yourself up over what's already happened. All you can do right now is keep moving forward and trust in the decisions you've made." She pulled her close, tucking her head under her chin. "I knew you'd be special, kid. Any daughter of Benezia's . . . ." She exhaled noisily. "You know, I told her: you're treating her like a baby bird, Nezzy. She's going to raise one hell of a storm with those little wings."

"Little Wing?" Aethyta felt her daughter relax against her, Liara's breath tickling against her neck as she giggled lightly. "Thanks, Dad."

"Any time, kiddo."

* * *

James straightened at the sound of the door whirring open. Despite his looming presence, neither asari noticed the young lieutenant waiting by the door of Liara's apartment. They exchanged quiet farewells and went their separate ways, one towards the lower level of the Presidium Commons to resume her barista cover, the other towards her apartment. "Yo." James waved once she had spotted him.

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a nervous laugh and scratched his cheek. "Security detail. I've been assigned to escort you to the rendezvous point."

"How long have you been waiting?" Liara asked and beckoned for him to lead the way.

"Eh, not too long." James grinned and elbowed her. "So, who was that pretty asari you were talking to earlier?"

She shot him a glare and huffed. "That was my father you were ogling at."

"Y-your old man?" James chocked. "Damn. Well, you know what they say about asari matriarchs."

"I'd rather not confirm my suspicions." Liara sighed and shook her head. "Anyway, you didn't have to come pick me up. It's not like I'm in any real danger while we're in the Citadel."

"Not even from Cerberus?"

"I don't think they'd go that far."

"Whatever you say, Blue." He feigned indifference, knowing better than to argue when Liara was in that kind of mood. Privately, he thought a healthy dose of paranoia was better than getting blindsided again. With so much at stake, losing her to Cerberus now would put them further back in their war against the Reapers.

_I just gotta do my job properly._

James Vega wasn't much of a thinking man. Oh, he was quick on his feet, and he could read a situation better than the average grunt. He wouldn't have made it all the way to lieutenant otherwise. Or survived Fehl Prime for that matter. All the same, he disliked thinking too much about things that he had little control over.

Like Cerberus.

He was plenty angry about Cerberus.

But being angry all the time helped nobody. So he tried not to think about it. Well—tried not to, in the same vein that a child might plug his ears and sing loudly and off-key in an attempt to ignore the problem.

"I heard Citadel control's in pretty bad shape right now."

"The refugee situation isn't letting up, so it's to be expected."

He gave Liara a lopsided grin. "Apparently it's to do with the quarian liveships and them blocking up traffic on nearby systems this time." Citadel traffic was always pretty bad, even pre-Reaper invasion. Discharge stations, in particular, were heavily congested. Since buildups were common among ships that generated mass effect fields for FTL travel, they were required to discharge their drive cores every twenty to thirty hours. This prevented the core from over-saturating, which would result in the core releasing a massive energy burst that would cook anyone on board, burn out all of the electronic systems, and even fuse the metal bulkheads.

Typically, ships dispersed the buildup by grounding on a planet or through close proximity to the magnetic field of a large stellar body such as a sun or a gas giant. Unfortunately, none could be found close to the Citadel. So people had to make do. And then the war started.

With the refugee ships coming in and out of the Citadel, along with military personnel carrying supplies and much-needed information for their various masters, traffic was starting to look like the kind of hell that had already frozen over. Others were now making pit stops at nearby star systems, knowing better than to try for the discharge stations.

Of course, even with the quarians coming in, the danger of ships crashing into each other still wasn't that big of a problem so long as they stayed far away from the Citadel. However, it did mean a stronger organic presence near the Serpent Nebula, which made plenty of people sweat bullets. Everyone might have differing opinions over a number of topics, but their intelligence agents all agreed on one thing: the Reapers liked to focus on heavily-populated areas.

"They're all here?" Liara asked incredulously.

"Shiala tells me Oriana's team is already on it. Apparently they have a protocol in place in case something like that came up?" James leaned against the elevator they were taking to the rapid transit hub. "Alliance also sent some people from Tactical. They want to develop large-scale evasion strategies in case we need to resort to mobilizing the civilian populace. What's left of it anyway."

"Thank the Goddess for Oriana Lawson."

An up and coming bar, the Purgatory was a popular hangout among soldiers. It also offered rooms for those who desired privacy, a commodity among the officer types who might need a more casual setting for their discussions. Since both crews agreed to keep mum about Shepard's abduction, the Citadel Embassies would not be an ideal place for everyone to meet up. Furthermore, they did not have access to any of the Spectre facilities—not unless they wanted to sneak in, as Kasumi often did.

Fortunately for them, Oriana knew Purgatory's owner through the vast network of contacts available to the Shadow Broker. After a few words with the volus Ardeth, along with a reasonable sum, they had gotten one of the rooms reserved for them, with all of the facilities that Purgatory offered.

As Liara and James neared the entrance to Purgatory, a familiar pair stumbled out of the open doors, one of them singing off-key. " . . . But no matter what scars you _bear_ , whatever uniform you _wear_ ," the human bellowed, taking a swing at an imaginary foe, "you can fight like a krogan, run like a leopard, but you'll never be better than _Commander_ _Shepard_."

Liara huffed at the sight of the careening duo and hastened her pace, dragging a bemused James with her.

"You okay, Blue?" James asked once they were inside.

"Let's just say you weren't the only one ogling my father earlier," Liara muttered darkly.

"Right. And the song has nothing to do with it?"

She frowned. "Shepard's popularity is only to be expected given the circumstances. After all, she's defied the Reapers not once, but twice. Three times if you count their brush-in with the Reaper destroyer in Rannoch recently."

"That doesn't explain why you're upset about it." When Liara refused to answer, James sighed and scratched his head. Glancing at the asari next to him, he crossed his arms and said, "You know, the song's practically true." He gave her a tentative smile. "Commander Shepard is the best out there. Not even Cerberus can break her."

Briefly, Liara matched his smile before palming the lock to the private room. Inside, Feron perked up from his seat and waved. "Oy. Finally some company."

"Are we the first to arrive?" Liara asked, taking a seat beside her old friend.

"The elder Lawson dropped by earlier. Said she had a few errands to run."

"The elder Lawson," Kasumi drawled, wisps of colour shimmering briefly around her as she deactivated her cloak, "was snooping around the Normandy docking bay earlier."

"Is that so?" Feron leaned forward, intrigued. "And here I thought appropriating one ship was ballsy enough. Guess our 'captain' is a little greedy."

"She's probably trying to figure out where I've hidden her sister." Liara tilted her head and frowned. "And your captain?"

"Kirrahe was relieved of his post earlier today. He handed the captaincy over to me." Miranda arched an eyebrow at Feron who shrank under her gaze. "Gossiping already?"

"It's nice to see you again, Miranda," Liara said, voice soft.

"Under better circumstances, perhaps." They eyed each other warily. Brushing back a few loose strands from her face, she said, "I heard Mordin was also taken."

"You heard correctly."

Miranda stood across from them, as if a defendant before a military tribunal. Strange. You'd think she was the one being accused.

"Let's not point fingers again, shall we?" Kasumi said in a tone that made Miranda bristle. James wondered if a prior confrontation had already happened to spark such a reaction.

"Yeah, what's done is done," he agreed, cutting in before the conversation could go south. He looked at his companions, daring them to protest, but no one seemed willing to argue with him now that the elephant in the room was out.

"So . . ." Feron broke the awkward silence. "What's the game plan then? Do we just bust in every known Cerberus base and hope for the best?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "As if it could be that easy."

"We'll have to be discreet about this," said Kasumi. "It won't do for morale if word of Shepard's abduction became public knowledge."

They all nodded, some a little more reluctantly than others. "The Council will pull all of their support if they think their favoured Spectre can't deliver."

"We'll have to use a different ship then. The Normandy is too well-known these days, even with its superior stealth capabilities."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find a ship." Four sets of eyes turned towards Miranda. "I guess that means you'll be leading the search party, Boss," Feron said, grinning.

"Actually, I was hoping you would take command of the Normandy in my stead."

They all turned, this time to stare at Liara. "You can't be serious, Blue!" James protested. "I mean, I guess you could be, seeing as Shepard is your"—he gestured vaguely and huffed—"but I mean, who's going to keep that stubborn old krogan in line, eh? And the Primarch actually fucking _respects_ you. Hell, you were the only one with the _cojones_ to give the asari Councillor the finger. How're we going to keep all of them from making a mess of things if you're not there?" He glanced shyly at Miranda. "No offence and all, but I don't know you."

Miranda shrugged. "None taken."

"I'm sure—"

The door to the private room whirred open, admitting a furious Tali muttering about "bosh'tet Councillors" underneath her breath, a bemused Garrus at her heels.

"So no embassy for the quarians then?"

"No embassy for the quarians," Garrus confirmed.

"Well, it's not a definite no," Tali hedged, though she still looked crestfallen. "Councillor Sparatus and Councillor Tevos were willing to negotiate."

"But Udina would rather deal with the commander than talk to Tali," said Garrus, taking a seat next to James. "Valern's the only one who's being a real stick in the mud."

Liara's lips quirked slightly at the human idiom. Next to her, Kasumi gave a Cheshire grin. "So, do we kidnap the Councillor and pretend to be him then?"

Miranda shook her head, smiling wryly. She'd heard about their gamble with the quarians. "We'll keep that as plan B for now."

"Or maybe a familiar face will get him to reconsider."

The temperature seemed to drop inside the room at the sight of the woman by the door. The sound of a leather chair sliding backwards shattered the quiet, though no one heard it; everyone's attention was trained towards the short, stocky woman standing before them.

_Shepard._

"My apologies for deceiving you," EDI said, turning her cloaking off, before any of them could speak.

"Where the hell did you get her likeness?" Miranda demanded, immediately on the defensive.

"An illegal VI that has been circulating for some time now." EDI said. "I found one dismantled amongst the Commander's things. Our comm specialist got me a working copy."

Liara silently thanked James for dragging back her chair and sat down, keeping her shaking hands underneath the table. "I-I see they've made improvements on the VI."

"You knew about this?"

"Shepard got me a copy just before she went back to Earth."

James refrained from making a suggestive comment. The idea of a Shepard VI keeping their XO happy was a hilarious – if hot – one but teasing an already upset asari was like playing with fire. "Think you can do a Shepard, EDI?"

"Quite. I have been immersing myself in her work recently. It was . . . very enlightening."

"What brought this on?"

EDI's face was eerily still as she processed Miranda's question. "I was designed by Cerberus. I do not take moral stances that conflict with orders from my executive officers. But when Jeff removed my AI shackles, I became capable of self-modifying my core programming. I once asked Jeff if he thought I should change anything now that I can. He deflected the question with humour.

"I was planning on asking for Shepard's opinion once she returned. However, upon learning that she had been abducted by Cerberus, I found myself in a moral quandary. Should I remain silent about what I had learned or should I confront our XO regarding her deception?"

"You knew about the abduction?" asked Liara.

"I know everything that goes in and out of my ship." EDI glanced at each of them, but it was Shepard's face that they saw, her stiff expression an alien one. "Care to give it a try?"

"The lighting isn't quite right," Tali pointed out, a moment later. "If you look closely enough, anyway."

"It's a pity the sculpted features of my true face cannot mimic Shepard's," said EDI.

"You're just about the right body type though," said Miranda, eyeing her with renewed interest.

"You'll have to watch vids of the commander if you want to act the part," Feron added.

"Something I'm sure our XO will be happy to provide." James gave Liara a teasing grin and received an elbow to the ribs in exasperated reply.

"And you'll probably want to keep your public appearances to a minimum." Garrus leaned forward, fingers tap-tapping thoughtfully. "Your cloaking will need some calibrating"—there was an audible groan from Tali—"to match Shepard's features, but even if we can fool people, we're still taking a huge risk."

"Shepard's a hero. Hell, she's a bloody icon." Miranda shook her head and laughed softly: a private joke. "I say we take advantage of this opportunity."

"How so?" James asked, admiring the way she tilted her head and smiled.

"Well, I heard the Alliance is experimenting on their N7 program, adding auxiliary units from the other races . . ."

* * *

Donnel Udina stared moodily at his personal terminal, fingers laced, the soft blue glow of the screen throwing shadows across his brown, leathery skin. With a heavy sigh, he pushed his synthleather chair aside, and stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back. He crossed the distance from his desk to the office balcony, drink in hand, melancholy thoughts at his heels.

The Alliance News feed played in the background, muted by the hubbub coming from below, the foot traffic dense with worried citizens and personnel alike. He felt a moment of triumph at the number of humans he found loitering underneath his balcony, many of whom were in their positions now because of him. It was a temporary triumph, however, one that was quickly overshadowed by the despair that stirred in his chest. It reminded him of the years following Anderson's inauguration as humanity's first Councillor: a bitter memory that he would nurse for years to come. It burned in his gut and made his despair even more pronounced like the spirits that he now detested but could not stop consuming.

He turned with a violent swing of his torso, glowering at the terminal before him. Mindful of the security cameras that recorded his every move, he relaxed his tense shoulders and returned the glass on the nearby sink, his hands trembling as he recalled the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him.

Though he was loath to admit, the true instigator of his dark mood was not his former . . . colleague. Anderson was a sore topic, true, but now that he was out of Donnel's hair—what little of it was left anyway—it was easy to put him out of Donnel's mind as well.

No. Cerberus was the instigator.

Cerberus, the organization responsible for his initial appointment as humanity's ambassador in the Citadel. Cerberus, the organization that now plotted for the demise of his fellow Councillors. His stomach twisted at the thought. But what could he do? Cerberus was right. The other Councillors would simply get in the way. He had tried asking for their help already in relieving Earth of the brunt of the Reapers' attack but his attempts had been futile; they would not budge. Their home-worlds were more important. (Never mind that they were stronger together. A bunch of self-concerned jackasses _indeed_.)

He jerked in surprise as the door to his office whirred open. About to reprimand the intruder, he stopped cold at the sight of Shepard standing by the doorway. He folded his arms to hide his shaking and leaned against his desk, eyeing her as one might eye a predator. "I wasn't aware you had returned, Commander."

Shepard's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "And lose the element of surprise?" She stepped inside and shifted into parade rest in front of him. "I'll be sure to announce my presence next time I visit the Citadel, Councillor."

Donnel didn't miss the mocking tilt of her tone at his title though he did not rise to her bait. "See that you do."

"I apologize for the delay in my last report," she said, her playfulness gone. "A trap in Benning had me out of commission for a while. You would think the Reaper destroyer would cause me more trouble. Human ingenuity still triumphs over brute strength it seems."

He nodded. He had glanced over the report earlier that day, and remembered frowning at the mention of Cerberus troops in one of their colonies. "Harder to shoot at a wolf when he's in sheep's clothing."

"Even harder still, when they are sheep forced to act like wolves."

He froze, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Did she know? he wondered. But Shepard simply continued to stare at him with a bland expression. "If we could stop the Reapers somehow from indoctrinating our people . . ."

She inclined her head. "It would bolster our morale," she said softly. "But more than that, it would open the possibility of studying the Reaper parts we've acquired so far."

He relaxed his shoulders, glad that he had read the situation correctly.

"I heard the quarians sent an envoy . . ."

 _As if you didn't have a finger in that particular pie._ "You heard correctly, Commander." He smiled thinly. "I could not show my support so openly of course. It would not do to appear so overeager."

"So you support the quarians' bid for an embassy in the Citadel?"

"Whatever helps humanity." He waved his hand, dismissing her. "You are easier to read than you think, Shepard. I know you are fond of the quarians. Though I cannot promise your quarian the embassy seat now, come to me again once their contributions to the war effort become more apparent and I will change my stance on the matter."

"Ah." Shepard relaxed from parade rest. "And should you deny them again?"

"You would threaten me as unhappy Spectres with too much power are wont to do."

"Tali did suggest I let my fist do the talking,'" Shepard admitted.

"Then, I will delegate that consequence to my future self, should I choose not to honour our agreement." _Though I suspect,_ he thought as he watched her leave, _such things will not matter in the end._ His eyes fell on the the bottom right cabinet underneath a quartet of screens that showed Reaper activity in the past twenty hours. He had chosen to hide his spirits there behind a false panel.

He returned to his desk, a Thessian drink in hand. It was called Sorrow's Companion—an appropriate drink for the occasion. _Here is to hoping we shall never see each other again._ He raised his drink in silent toast. _You always did get in the way of my plans, Commander._


	12. After Eden

**Chapter Eleven – After Eden**

She burned, _burned,_ burned all over—not quite space boil hot, no that was a different time—and gasped for air, struggling against tight straps that kept her in place. Harried voices in the background grew louder though still indistinct. No clone-perfect, angelic visage peering down on her this time. Just rough hands and people in surly uniforms rushing around her.

She felt the pinprick of a needle against her neck followed by a heaviness descending on her. Weightless, wasted—she'd been drugged before. These sensations were familiar. The harsh operating light, the smell of antiseptic, and of course they were giving her another _goddamn sedative safety margins/overdose be damned._ She opened her mouth to chastise them and stilled at the sight of the mechanical monstrosity lying on her side where her _fucking right arm should have been._

She rasped a few choice curses despite the dry throat and tried to flex her other arm—still flesh and bone, good—but the heaviness was slowly setting in.

She caught the words "geth technology" and "integrating the Reaper arm" and _"doomed, doomed, doomed; your submission is nigh"_ , before she fell into a troubled sleep once more, plagued by fever dreams.

* * *

_Ash fell._

_Liara could see light filtering past the Reaper carapaces interlocked above her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that had bloomed from her waist upwards, and felt Garrus stir next to her. She flinched as his sharp limbs dug against her and lifted an arm sluggishly to swat him away._

_"Liara," he said, though she could barely hear him; the ringing sensation that accompanied her headache made it hard to focus. "Are you okay?"_

_Her biotics flared weakly, signalling her agitation. No, she was clearly_ not, _okay?_

_Outside, a team of C-sec officers led by Captain Anderson began the careful task of removing what was left of Sovereign's body. They cut through metal and carapace, while technicians nearby hovered, anxious to get at the Reaper remains. (An auxiliary force grudgingly accepted by Anderson, their purpose was to assess. However, what technology they did salvage was lost in the red tape bureaucracy of a recovering metropolis, only to resurface months later in several Cerberus labs. The handiwork of a traitor no doubt.)_

_(But these were surface thoughts. The dream persisted.)_

_A blond youth gave a short nod to Garrus, reluctant but respectful: a familiar greeting between the two species. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned and called for the captain before moving closer to tend to their wounds._

_"Take it easy . . . it's over," Anderson said, voice gentle, soothing. Liara relaxed under his earnest gaze. "You're safe now."_

_Safe. Bitterness accompanied that word. Safe but not whole, that was what they were—a unit missing its most crucial member. At that moment, she felt much like a tin man without a beating heart, all limbs and mechanical grace, leaning against Anderson's solid frame. "Where's the commander? Where's Shepard?"_

_She gripped his shoulder and sobbed in his arms, a floodgate of emotions released. It was a disquieting sight for the captain, whose contact with their kind was limited to aloof indifference and muted contempt. Surface emotions._

_But Liara's grief ran deeper, being rooted in the shattered remnants of her glass heart. Guilt cultivated there—guilt and regret. It was selfish of her to ask for more than what the commander—what Jules—could provide, selfish of her to demand intimacy. And yet, despite the sorrow washing over her now, she still wished that things could have gone differently. Because, knowing now that her commander was lying before her, crushed underneath the Reaper limb, she might have—_

— _no, no. Though an awkward tension had since descended between them, one that could never be remedied now, it was still preferable to the wretched thoughts that she had briefly entertained. Better to have shown Shepard respect in her final hours. That was at least a sort of peace she could reconcile with._

_She felt Anderson flinch and pulled away. The shimmer of blue across his torso alerted Liara to the dark energy pulsing on the surface of her skin, broadcasting her fraught emotions. Though her biotics could not harm him—weak as they were and without purpose—the fluctuations disrupted his kinetic barriers, giving him the sensation of a thousand prickling caterpillars crawling across his arms and chest. About to apologize, she faltered at the sound of approaching footsteps behind her._

_"Am I too late for the after-party?" The fondness that accompanied the words was spring rain and verdant limbs taking root, blossoming joy amidst crumbling ruin: an all-too familiar warmth. Liara turned around and met Shepard's smile with her own._

_Soot-stained and a little singed, her Hahne-Kedar armour practically falling apart—she looked like she had been through hell. But_ by the Goddess _she was alive and whole._

 _She was alive and_ whole _._

* * *

Fingers brushed along the haptic interface, playing a quiet melody in a room that was bustling with noise. To a casual observer, the short woman seemed almost bird-like in how she held herself, poised to take flight at the slightest of movements. Garbed in Cerberus colours, she appeared at first like any other worker drone: efficient, precise, mute—suited to the culture of a corporation that valued results above all the shackles that kept her rooted to the work table marked her as different—as dangerous.

Not that she could be mistaken for a common grunt, even to a casual observer. Hers was a face you couldn't forget.

Outside, a fine mist had settled over the rocky outcrop, painting a serene portrait that belied the buzz of activity within the labs' winding corridors. This tranquility would remain for quite some time until Utopia was well overhead, nestled underneath heavy rain clouds.

" _Ursa-1 requesting permission to land."_

" _IFF signal confirmed. Permission granted, Ursa-1."_

A refurbished UT-47 broke through the clouds and landed on the makeshift docking bay further east from the sprawling complex. The door slid open and a single salarian stepped out, lightly chained. Assault Troopers converged from the shadows of the docking bay, surrounding the shuttle in a half-circle. One by one, mil-spec rifles were raised.

"A warm reception as always." Behind the salarian, a lithe figure emerged. She hooked an arm around the salarian's shoulders and trailed a finger along the patchwork of bruises across his face. "No need for your boys, Metzger. My pet is quite tame, I assure you."

"That thing put a lot of good men in body bags. If it's all the same, Darzi, I'd rather he stays within my crosshairs."

"Fair enough." The troopers fell into step behind her—a respectful distance which Darzi, designated Phantom-4, seemed to appreciate.

All Cerberus troopers under Metzger's command had been briefed about their incoming prisoner. Like the infamous Commander Shepard, Mordin Solus was brilliant, even among his peers. It was a pain, but precautions had to be taken.

Privately, Metzger wasn't keen on the prospect of baby-sitting more prisoners for the Illusive Man. For the old soldier, it wasn't a matter of pride; it was a matter of security. Never mind that the lab-coats seemed confident in their control over the commander. Someone like Shepard . . . Metzger grimaced. Holding a high-risk prisoner like her and going to sleep with both eyes closed at night just wasn't fucking likely. Attempted prison escapes were an inevitability as far as Metzger was concerned.

Darzi stuck to protocol, leading them around the east block in a meandering path meant to obfuscate their true destination. It was also a common intimidation tactic: bright lights, a never-ending narrow pathway, and an escort of heavily-armed guards gave the impression that the place was pretty fucking fortified.

But impressions were just that and the salarian they were escorting was far too clever to fall for such tricks. Metzger knew better than to treat the fly-eater like a circus animal. Judging from the scuff marks on his suit and the bruises that marred his face, this particular salarian was hardly tame. He hoped Darzi's cavalier attitude towards their prisoner was mere posturing. Underestimating the salarian would bite them in the ass, and though Metzger would love to see his superior taken down a notch, he knew better. If shit hit the fan because she didn't take the salarian seriously, it would be on all their heads.

And he liked his pretty head—where it was attached to the rest of his body.

He reached for the security panel once they neared the threshold into the R&D block where their scientists worked. Entering the six-digit code to the keypad—a favourite niece's birthday—and a keycard swipe opened the double doors with an audible swoosh. Their escort remained outside as Darzi, Metzger, and the salarian stepped in.

"The hamster wheel to your cage." Darzi bared her teeth in a sharp smile. "And a playmate, just for you." She swept an arm across the lab, furnished with minimalist decor and heavy equipment. To Metzger, who cared little for their toys, the lab seemed full of fire hazards and safety violations, some of which were remnants of the old Alliance outpost they had seized by force, becoming the backbone of their facility.

The salarian's face was smooth and empty of emotion even when Shepard's eyes met his. "Putting us together. Tactically unsound. Would be your undoing. Better if we work in separate rooms."

Darzi laughed and turned to give Metzger a boisterous slap in the back. "He's even giving us advice. How _fucking_ adorable. What did I tell you, Chief? The little shit is as tame as the Asari porn you boys love to watch in your down time."

 _The little shit,_ Metzger thought, eyeing the salarian warily, _was criticizing us, you idiot._ For a moment, it seemed as though the salarian was about to spring into action, his chains rattling at the sudden movement. But, to Metzger's relief, he had simply turned around, having already decided that the lab was not to his liking.

"We'll have to keep him in his quarters until we've reallocated some of our resources."

Darzi lifted an eyebrow in mild surprise. "You're actually going to listen to him?"

"It's good advice," Metzger admitted grudgingly. "Unless you've got something better."

Darzi shrugged. "I don't know, Chief. I'd think splitting your personnel is just as tactically unsound. At least this way, if shit goes down it'd be contained in one area, don't you think?"

"Not to mention," hedged one of the scientists listening nearby, "Shepard is perfectly under our control. Collusion would be highly unlikely between the two prisoners."

"See. Even the nerd agrees with me."

Metzger straightened and brought his rifle back in its mag-holster. "If shit hits the fan because we didn't split them up, Darzi . . ."

"Then you'll have the sweet, sweet satisfaction of a well-deserved 'I told you so'."

* * *

Martinez pressed her face against the cool metal of the fighter ship she'd been assigned to maintain, feeling the pulse of the mad god like a second heartbeat. Here in the hangar bay, away from the main complex where the scientists worked, she could turn the volume down, and retreat from the tightening sensation of the god's embrace. Here, its rage was at its weakest.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, imagining her prison uncoiling and slipping away.

The heartbeat ceased to throb.

The maintenance itself took only half an hour to complete, a routine that Martinez found meditative. As a Cerberus grunt staying groundside, she'd been given other tasks to keep herself preoccupied. She was a secondary asset whose abilities were not suited for the monotony of guard duty. Ironic, considering her previous occupation.

But it was for the best. The presence of another ancient could stir her prisoner into a frenzy, and though she could withstand the pain for a time, being around the remnants of a Reaper gave her migraines that could only be remedied by satiating the Thorian's thirst for violence.

Besides, this was where she was meant to be.

Ever since she had learned that Cerberus was interested in harvesting Reaper parts and thus exposing themselves to the influence of a Reaper, she knew that infiltrating their ranks would be a task that only she could do. She knew firsthand what it was like to be under the thrall of an ancient, and though she was not thrilled at the prospect of stirring the remnants of the Thorian that still lingered in her mind, she could not let another old god dictate the actions of her people once more.

(Many called the Reapers and their ilk synthetics, but to a superstitious woman like Martinez, they were ancient gods that needed to be slain. There was no room in her life for scientific guesswork; how their indoctrination worked meant little if it could not be stopped using conventional means. Arcelia Martinez, whose previous thraldom gave her an immunity of sorts from Reaper indoctrination merely regarded the situation as one god protecting their territory from another.)

For a while she simply observed and passed what information she could to more interested parties. Though she initially sought to disrupt their operations more thoroughly, life as a Cerberus grunt made her realize just how in over her head she was in thinking that she could make a difference there. So she walked the knife-edged line of a budding spy, poking her nose where she could and exercising restraint when the situation called for it. Suddenly, maintaining her disguise was her highest priority, even if that meant allowing Shepard to be taken captive by the very people she was trying to stop.

She had justified her actions over and over again in her head, but the fact remained that she had taken too large a gamble when she had incapacitated the commander. _I did the right thing,_ she thought firmly. _The salarian couldn't possibly escape on his own. With Shepard here, he's got a fighting chance._

Ever since they had gotten their hands on the schematics for the Crucible, Cerberus had redirected its resources and energy into recreating the prothean super weapon. However, because of their limited knowledge of the protheans, it soon became apparent that they needed Shepard and her crew to decrypt the more esoteric parts of the schematics. Just as the Illusive Man suspected, Shepard proved fluent enough in dissecting the diagrams due to the cipher still buried in her mind. Though Mordin's specialties lay elsewhere, the Illusive Man also hoped that his perspective on genetics would aid them in unlocking the secrets of the prothean's communication which seemed to rely on an aspect of their physiology specific to their species.

Of course, the real prize would have been Dr. T'Soni, who had been part of the team that had uncovered the schematics in the first place. Fortunately for Shepard and the others, she had evaded capture. Martinez didn't think she'd respond too well to Shepard's fake mind-control ploy, which would have made their eventual escape all the more difficult.

Because regardless of whatever the scientists had claimed, Martinez _knew_ that Shepard's mind was still her own.

She remembered the first day they had brought her into the compound. Remembered the calculating gleam in those pale grey eyes.

The slight nod Shepard had given her.

There was also the sudden increase in her security clearance, reassignment to ship maintenance—shuttles were hardly ideal for off-world transport—changes in her timetable, and additional programs in her omni-tool that were definitely not there before.

If that wasn't Shepard's doing . . .

_Then we are well and truly fucked._

* * *

There was a sudden, bright light—and then the room descended into chaos.

Shepard, whose facade normally bore a sleepy, serene mask, was alight with anticipation. She moved with precision—with the foreknowledge that comes from engineered opportunity and careful observation. Jimmy for instance, light-sensitive and caffeine-dependent, was easy to take down, his coffee mug his own demise. Dragging his body behind their shared work desk, she took off his omni-tool—grafted ones were really more secure—and overrode its access protocols with the backdoor she had planted days before.

She rolled to an adjacent table and grabbed her next prey: a budding xenolinguist who kept a non-regulation pistol mag-holstered to his hip. With practised ease, she slammed him against the ground and decapitated him with a newly formed omni-blade. By then, the others had recovered from the flashbang she'd remotely initiated using their omni-tools.

Ducking out of cover, she shot another scientist heading for the nearest exit with the Harpy pistol she'd acquired. She slid the still-smoking gun towards Mordin, who was strangling his minder with the length of his chain. He gave her a lightning-quick smile and took cover close to her left, firing at the remaining scientists. Though they had communicated little since the salarian's arrival, they fought with a familiarity that more than made up for their meagre fire power. Within seconds, the rest of their co-workers were dead.

"Could have done without the light show," Mordin said, while Shepard unlocked his chains with the same makeshift lockpick she had used on herself.

"And miss an opportunity to keep you on your toes?" Shepard laughed. "It's good to see you, Mordin."

"And you, Shepard."

They shared a nod and headed for the western footpath. Though the complex's docking bay was located on the other side, Shepard knew better than to take the direct approach. Metzger, the facility's head of security, was canny and would send most of his people to reinforce their only possible escape route once word got out. To clear a path for the docking bay, first they would need a distraction.

At the heart of the complex was the armoury, wedged between the soldiers' barracks and a set of research labs where weapon development took place. The labs were the first of many to be built, and was initially used by their technicians to dismantle what technology they could salvage from the Collectors. Shepard, familiar with the Collector Particle Beam—a weapon she had personally picked up during a mission in Horizon—extrapolated that the Eden Prime base would have a few in reserve.

She was not wrong.

They armed themselves with pistols and lightweight submachine guns, opting to remain in their Cerberus uniforms considering they had little time to spare. With a couple of Particle Beams in tow, they cut across a series of pre-fab housing units that had been recently emptied and converted to storage. Shepard, whose virtual reach included records of outbound scientists and non-combat personnel, knew that Metzger would keep this particular area lightly guarded. Though Metzger liked to parade his soldiers in a show of force, they were still very much a minority in the facility, with the bulk of Cerberus soldiers having been deployed elsewhere.

Having only a small window of time before Cerberus got wind of their plans, they hastened their pace, sacrificing subtlety for speed: a decision that almost led them straight into an approaching patrol. At the sight of a handful of troopers rounding a corner, Shepard slid to a stop against a plotted plant—one of the few decorating the hallway—and took a moment to catch her breath. About to step out of cover, she caught Mordin's eye and saw him hold out his palm. She tensed, ready to spring into action at his signal.

Like synchronized dancers, Mordin and Shepard jumped out of cover a heartbeat after two Cerberus soldiers walked past them. There was a burst of heat as two omni-blades flickered open like a pair of butterfly knives, and then they pierced flesh, the soldiers dead before they even hit the ground. Mordin, quick on the follow up, turned around and released a bolt of electricity to the other two soldiers heading towards the opposite direction. They met similar fates before they could recover: two shots each from Mordin's pistol.

"Is this the sort of thing you did as an STG agent?"

"More. Might tell you a story sometime."

Shepard grinned. "Maybe even write a memoir?"

"Maybe _read_ a memoir. Yours."

Shepard matched his pace and felt the knot of worry inside the pit of her stomach _finally_ starting to unwind. Though her initial instinct had been to escape once she had recovered her mental faculties, curiosity had kept her from leaving. And it was her curiosity that damned her.

She had learned through the subtle gestures and cryptic chatter of her captors that a mind-control chip had been placed near the nape of her neck as a failsafe. If not for the _gift_ the geth had given her, adding the Matrix-inspired port where the chip was supposed to be, she might have already fallen under Cerberus thrall. The revelation had dredged up past insecurities and had brought to surface one question that had plagued her since rising back from the dead: _am I still human?_

She was thankful for her ability to compartmentalize—to look at what was in front of her and convert the information into bite-sized portions, a skill she had cultivated during her time with the Engineering Corps. Still, knowing that they had altered her body to take her agency away should the need arise . . . it was a hard pill to swallow.

She knew she could have escaped sooner, could have devised a plan that did not rely so much on the prescience that came with information-gathering, but she could not galvanize herself into action. Her despair, which had worked its way inside the cracks of her composure, turned micro-fractures into fissures. It was the first time since Mindoir that she had truly felt vulnerable.

So she had put off her plan to escape, finding some measure of peace within hostile territory. Shame kept her inert—and an irrational hatred for a body that felt increasingly alien to her. Could she return to her crew, to her friends, knowing that she might break in front of them at any moment? It was easy to rationalize staying when there was information to be found in Eden Prime; their research facility offered insight regarding the prothean super weapon—a rare opportunity considering how difficult it was to circumvent their security normally. But in the end, she knew that it was just an excuse. After all, she was the one who had argued against using the prothean super weapon in the first place. It seemed disingenuous of her to take an interest now.

_I'll have to thank Mordin properly some day. If he hadn't showed up . . . who knows how long I would have stayed._

They stepped inside a storage unit adjacent to the hangar bay where military-grade vehicles were stored. Specifically, these vehicles were Grizzly and Mako variants, probably bought through less than legal channels and refurbished to suit Cerberus's needs. The unit also stored a number of metal crates, probably left over from the area's previous tenants. Past a raised platform where an M-44 Hammerhead was being fixed, they found a hydraulic door, secured by a set of digital locks. While Mordin placed the Particle Beams next to a set of metal pillars near the entrance, Shepard focused on the locks, easily bypassing their security, which was inadequate against a skilled hacker.

Her footsteps light for the first time in days, she almost stumbled against an austere metal box like a coffin to a mechanical god. She braced herself against what looked like a built-in control panel and fell to her knees, images of another civilization flashing before her eyes.

* * *

"Whoops," Darzi said in a tone that seemed more mocking than conciliatory to Metzger. "Salarians and their mind games, am I right?"

Metzger stared ahead and kept his mouth firmly shut, jaw aching as he struggled to put a lid on his anger—a snake ready to strike at the slightest movement. Darzi was trouble, but there was very little that he could do. Phantoms didn't fit in their hierarchy, which had been lifted from an Alliance mould—a legacy of their previous association. The Phantoms were an elite set—though their conception was shrouded in mystery. And their authority was much higher than Metzger's.

It was for the best really. Responding to her jibes would only undermine his authority.

She had little to lose given that Shepard was _his_ responsibility; she could afford to treat the escape attempt as a child's game, one that she would play until she got bored. He wondered if she had anticipated that this would happen, but quickly discarded the thought. It was not his place to question a superior. Cerberus was an organization of extremes, and he had known from the very start that there would be decisions made—always above him, always beyond his control—that he would not approve of. But ultimately, he was a soldier, a champion of humanity, and Cerberus had offered him what the Alliance could not: retribution for the blood spilled in Shanxi.

So he would do as he was told. It beat fraternizing with the enemy.

A crackle of static. And then—

"Sir, they're taking one of our Grizzlies."

They were doing _what_? He met Darzi's sidelong gaze—cat-like, smug—an expression he greatly wanted to crumple and discard. "Are you certain?" he almost asked. Instead, he skirted around a Kodiak, tracing a scratch on the hull with an absent eye, and tried to untangle his tongue even as he considered their next move. "Take some of your men, Carter, but proceed with caution. They're up to something." _Surely,_ he thought. _How else could they escape?_

But the salarian was canny, and Shepard had taken advantage of an assumption, had used it to mask her true agenda. Could this assumption of his—where would they find a starship _for fuck's sake_ —be another trap? He knew the salarian had been correct to criticize—but why speak up at all? If Metzger had taken his advice, it would have made escape that much harder.

A gamble then. Their xenophobia used against them. But for what purpose? To plant a seed of doubt? To cause conflict between the residing superior officer and a Phantom—an anomaly in an otherwise familiar hierarchy of soldiers?

"I'll go," Darzi said, seeing the decision in his face. He almost jumped at the sudden closeness of her presence. What an irritable woman! Had she no respect for personal space? He itched to send her out of his sight but she had the authority over him.

"If you like," he said with affected deference. "But it could be a trap."

"That's why I'm sending me." She parted with a smile, knife-sharp and dangerous. He didn't watch her go. It would only feed her ego.

He considered repositioning his remaining soldiers and found their numbers troubling. "Martinez."

"Sir." The sniper and sometimes mechanic snapped a salute. Not quite up to military standards. But discipline in that regard had always been lax.

"Get some volunteers. I want a soldier for each fighter that we have. If Shepard tries to take control of one, surprise her. If she looks like she'll gain the upper hand, disable the ships."

"And the shuttles, sir?"

"Unless a frigate is waiting in orbit, she won't get far on a shuttle." The question, asked without permission, rankled him. "To your post, soldier."

He moved up an elevated walkway, boots clinking up the steps. _Too quiet,_ he thought, eyes sweeping across the room below him. _No gunfire, no comm chatter. What's going on?_ The answer came a second later, making the walkway swing dangerously from side to side as an explosion shook the walls.

He grabbed hold of the railing and activated the comm channel with a twist of his hand. "Carter, what's your status?"

"Your man is pinned to the ground."

Darzi. He gritted his teeth. "Any survivors?"

"The Grizzly was just a distraction. They're heading your way."

Metzger cursed, heard the whine of hydraulic doors opening, and braced himself against the railing, Cerberus rifle unfolding and snapping into place. He had anticipated Shepard opening the doors from within the bay, but not from outside. Changing comm channels, he gave quick orders to regroup, trusting in his lieutenant's judgement.

"Sir, there's an unidentified alien life-form with them. Your orders?"

An unexpected ally? No, no. Shepard couldn't have gotten help from outside the facility. Their IFF system would have shot any incoming ships down. Which meant—

 _Breathe, you fucking idiot._ He ignored the thundering of his heartbeat and focused on the window of open space below, framed by a nearby fighter ship. He thought of the last two weeks—various cargo going in and out, of storage and ship manifests, set aside for later perusal. He thought of the prothean coffin, moved into permanent storage, their scientists pronouncing that particular artifact a 'regrettable' dead end. He thought of Shepard's work, her surprising aptitude for a language considered lost, and his breathing hitched.

"Shoot to disable. The Illusive Man will want that prothean alive," said Darzi over the comm channel, having reached the same conclusion he had.

A goddamn relic brought back to life. What were the fucking odds?

He moved further back, torn between regrouping with his men to add to their gunfire, or to continue his vigilance from above. Frozen with indecision, it was the sight of a bloodied Darzi that brought him back to the present. An arm hung loose on her side, though she continued to move with that smug, irritating feline grace, tempered by her Phantom training. Her right hand gripped an honest-to-goodness katana, which seemed like it had been taken (or stolen) straight out of a Japanese documentary.

_What the hell is she up to now?_

He heard something shatter and caught a glimpse of Shepard side-stepping a lazy swing, the remnants of an omni-blade crunching below her boots. He swung his Cerberus Harrier towards her direction, steadied his rifle with the help of the railing, and let loose a burst of gunfire at Shepard's feet. The telltale purple of dark energy shimmered across Shepard's form, causing the bullets to ricochet away from Shepard.

"Don't you cheat me out of a good fight, Metzger."

"If you must satiate your bloodlust, Darzi, do it when the prisoner isn't about to fucking escape!" He slapped a fresh heat sink on his rifle and descended down the steps, skirting around his dead lieutenant, his stomach churning at the sight of blood pooling near a fractured skull. He saw the prothean—so like the Collectors they had hunted down just a year before—and brought his omni-tool up, hoping to incapacitate with an electrified net. But the prothean saw him first.

His kinetic barrier warred with the biotic field that had wrapped itself around him, triggering the sensation of several tiny insects prickling across his skin. The prothean sneered, sharp teeth flashing, and then he was flung to the side, the edge of a metal crate biting against his hip. He fired blindly with his sidearm and scrambled to his feet, narrowly missing a pulsing orb of dark energy which had dissipated upon contact, a dark, rusty red blossoming across the lid.

He shot twice more, each time missing his mark, the prothean surprisingly agile despite its strange limbs. _Goddamn alien._ "Disable the ships," he said over the comm channel, and was met with a series of rapid-fire affirmatives from the other line. His spirits temporarily buoyed, he re-holstered his pistol and picked up a standard Katana shotgun from the cooling grasp of one of his men—a choice he would later find terribly ironic, considering his silent feud with the only other katana wielder in the room.

He pressed himself flat against a drop shuttle, free hand brushing against the scratch he had found earlier, watching his men being routed by the salarian, waiting for an opportunity to strike. It was frustrating to recognize the difference in skill between his men and these veterans; miners, colonists, refugees and patriotic nobodies made up the bulk of their ranks, lacking the discipline of a military upbringing. If only there had been more time . . .

His thoughts waylaid again by a memory of his youth spent hunting bandits and slavers—a time when he still considered the Alliance his home. There was a choice there, buried in those bloody memories: one where he had chosen duty over the lives of his squad, his friends, and in choosing, had confirmed what he had suspected all along. The Alliance could not be trusted to serve the needs of humanity. Not when it danced to the tune of those cold, heartless xenos.

He watched as his men were slowly picked off, one by one, and felt his chest constrict with some nebulous emotion, something like guilt and anger, determination and derision all at once. He looked at Darzi, whose casual display of power sickened him, and squared his shoulders—a choice made.

"Fall back. We'll regroup by the entrance." He jerked away just as bullets flew past his head, making dents on the shuttle. A turret, likely appropriated from the armoury, hovered nearby, its single eye staring right at him. He muttered a curse and dove to the side as another hail of bullets rushed past him, some ricocheting against his kinetic barrier. He took aim and fired once he had regained his bearing, sudden heat radiating from the Katana's barrel. With the turret gone, he now had a clear path towards the rendezvous point.

To his relief, there was a sizeable force waiting for him, hidden by shadow and crate and industrial equipment. There were almost a dozen soldiers, and many of them looked as battered as he felt—some even nursing wounds. "New plan," he said, with the confidence of a man who took things in stride. "Focus on the salarian." It was an easy decision to make. They had limited data on the prothean, and Darzi might actually bite his head off if he interfered with her fight. Under a more disciplined hand, they could go against the salarian.

He gave the docking bay a once-over and rattled orders, his soldiers forming together and taking the shape of a wall: a fortress of gun-metal and ceramic. He felt something like pride at the sight of their foreboding shape, advancing slowly towards their prey. They broke apart to find cover where they could and converged again to the centre, where they were at their strongest. To a well-armed opponent it might be suicide—a grenade could kill and confuse—but to a single salarian, armed only with a pistol and an omni-tool, their combined shields were practically impenetrable.

A burst of fire from the salarian gave the coalescing mass of bodies pause, but the omni-fire did little damage when spread across their kinetic barriers. Metzger, who was a step behind the main swarm of soldiers, saw the calculated move for what it was: a probe, a hook.

"Scatter!" Metzger said, when he saw the telltale spark coming from the salarian's omni-tool. One man yelped as a bolt of electricity stripped him of his kinetic barrier and made him keel over. Watts, a short, stout man with an even shorter temper, dragged the stunned man towards safety, his assault rifle jumping frenetically as he tried to shoot with one hand.

"Bates," Metzger grabbed the young man by the arm and yelled over the gunfire. "Be ready to take cover if the salarian tries that again. I'm leaving the men to you."

"Sir." Armed with purpose, they separated, one man to the open space of the docking-bay-turned-battlefield, the other to the narrow geometries outlined by towering fighter ships standing shoulder to shoulder.

* * *

Spectre. Phantom. Words that were functionally similar.

There was a future here—a promise, made by an ambitious man who visualized a world where humanity was the ultimate victor. Where the Citadel flourished under soft-skin hands, colour reflecting the earthy pigments of their home-world. Where the left arm of the Council, whether Spectre or Phantom, acted solely for the interests of a select few.

Project Nyx—designated Phantom—had made its way to Shepard's desk long before she'd been grounded on Earth. Secret training fields. Dossiers of promising candidates. It had been put on hold when Shepard was brought back from the dead, but the intent was clear: if the Illusive Man could not have her for an agent, then he would find others and shape them in her image.

Spectre. Phantom. This was no accident.

It came as no surprise then, that they were evenly matched. The Illusive Man always did have an eye for quality.

Her omni-blade strained from the weight of the Phantom's katana. Angling her weapon, she pushed the katana downwards and retreated, careful of her footwork. Before them, the shattered remnants of her omni-fabricated weapon glinted underneath the industrial lights. She flexed her right arm where the omni-tool rested, an all too familiar weight, and felt the heat ebbing—slowly, too slowly. She counted to three, thumb cycling through her limited combat set: blade, flash, fire, freeze, electrocute. The Phantom advanced.

They met in the middle, steel slicing empty air, open-palmed strikes redirecting, defending. "How disappointing," said the Phantom, slashing the open space in front of her, a ripple of dark energy leaping from the katana's sharp edge. "And here I thought I was fighting someone with more bite. Lost your teeth did you now?" She rushed forward, blade flashing, driving Shepard to a corner. "Why don't I help you retire—to an early grave!" The Phantom delivered the killing blow: a neat, fluid thrust that would have pinned Shepard to the wall.

Caught up in the momentum, the Phantom stepped on a patch of ice that had formed from a cryoblast—more calculated than errant as things often were when Shepard was involved—and slipped, landing heavily on her bad arm. Shepard took the opportunity to skirt around her and pick up a pistol from a Cerberus corpse, knowing better than to try and dislodge the katana from her grip. Instead, Shepard fired with the Talon while the Phantom rose to her feet on shaky legs. She responded with a shockwave of dark energy like violets blossoming in the spring. The bullets, having shifted from their original trajectories, missed the Phantom by an arm's length.

Wild, animal rage transformed the Phantom's cocky facade into a sinister mask. She howled, half-mad with violent lust, and swung her blade in short, precise cuts, blurring in succession. Shepard lost ground again, unable to match the frenetic pace of the Phantom's attack.

Her borrowed omni-tool, never meant for prolonged combat, refused to produce another disposable blade, having lost much of its supply of alloys and ceramic. The gun was equally useless; she expended much of her energy moving out of the sword's path and couldn't align a shot that was sure to penetrate the Phantom's pulsing biotic barrier. In a matter of seconds, their positions had reversed, Shepard knocked backwards by another wave of dark energy. This time, the Phantom had succeeded in pinning her to the ground.

Hot, stinging pain lanced through Shepard's body, the katana digging viciously against her bicep. Above her, the Phantom sneered and drew close, gleefully mocking. "Pathetic. The mighty Spectre, saviour of the known 'verse, reduced to a fucking mess of bone"—she twisted the katana, eliciting a shudder of breath from Shepard—"and blood by yours truly. Guess you're not all that after all." Shepard, not one to miss an opportunity, lunged for her neck with the injured arm, muscle tearing against the blade. It only took an inch more to grab hold of the Phantom's neck in a vice-like grip and a twitch of her thumb to activate the last of the omni-tool's combative functions. At point blank, the electric spark did more than incapacitate. The omni-tool had reached its limit and had fed heat and excess energy into the spark, turning a defensive ability into a dangerous weapon. Both Shepard and the Phantom screamed from the sudden, volatile outburst which burned, burned, _burned_. Even hazy from the pain, Shepard could smell the scent of cooked flesh and plastic and metal. The omni-tool, had melted from the intense heat, turning Shepard's entire arm into a ruin.

"Shepard," Mordin called from the comm channel, having heard her cry of agony.

"Go," she croaked. "Please." The Phantom, very much dead and slumped on top of her, made it difficult for her to breathe.

"I won't leave you behind."

"Yes," she said. It hurt to talk but the safety of her friends would always come first, even when sight and sound were slipping away. "You will. 'm too important," she slurred, "to die here." The unspoken words: _Cerberus will make sure I survive._

"Will see you soon," Mordin said in a gentle tone, so unlike his usual brusque bedside manners. "That's a promise."

* * *

Metzger's office was a disarray by the time he returned, after escaping from his chief medical officer who was keen to examine him for any injuries he might have sustained. Slouching on his leather chair, he took a moment to stare at the only sentimental object he kept on his desk, his arms hanging limp, head bowed. His older brothers smiled back at him from the picture, so very proud and carefree. He had very few memories of them, being so much older than him, but the few he did have he treasured.

There were other pictures of them, hidden away in some binder he kept among his personal things. Newspaper articles about the Occupation of Shanxi. Descriptions of mangled corpses— _theirs_ and their team—stories of atrocities done to them by the turians . . .

He could still see Darzi's corpse in his mind's eye, burnt in some places, and Shepard underneath, her arm a right fucking mess. He knew their doctors were brilliant—could regrow skin and knit bone and fade scars if they like—but could they salvage Shepard's arm? Make it right again? He wasn't overly fond of the xeno-loving Spectre, but he wasn't a fucking asshole either. He had done what he could to stop the bleeding when he had found her, and had called for a medic. It was the decent human thing to do.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a message from his terminal. _Prepare to transport the prisoner,_ it said. Prisoner: singular. There were a set of coordinates underneath, likely encrypted, as well as instructions on how to dispose of Darzi's body. Apparently they had done some modifications on her that could be dangerous if measures weren't taken.

So they knew.

And they didn't care that he had let the salarian escape with one of his soldiers and the only living prothean left. (A miscalculation on his part. A fighter ship still functional. His trap turned against them. He had not accounted for the possibility of traitors among his people.)

But where was his punishment? Their location had been compromised, that much was certain, so it made sense to transfer Shepard to a new location. It wasn't so much a responsibility removed because he had proven himself incompetent so much as a logical reaction to recent events.

He took a cigarette from a desk drawer and lit it with his omni-tool, settling back with a miserable sigh. He should have anticipated all of this cloak-and-dagger, mind game bullshit when he had first signed up. Well, he _had_ , but he didn't think it would have applied to him. He'd just been small fry then. A common soldier doing common soldier-y things—following orders and the like.

And now?

He took the picture frame and left his cigarette smouldering on top of the desk, its tiny flame happily devouring the stack of reports he had left unread this morning. If he left now, while his soldiers were still recovering, he could probably make it to the nearest resistance camp by nightfall.

Staying just wasn't worth it anymore.


End file.
